


Rockin' and Rollin' and Whatnot

by petersfeather



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 50's AU, ??? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Boys grinding on each other, Charlie's cars are dragons, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Grease - Freeform, Humor, It's Dumb, Like super light, M/M, Musicals, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, almost everyone is some kind of gay, but also it's very light, i'm dumb, it's also LONG, light homophobia, other than that, this basically follows all of Grease, which is why it's horrifically long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 05:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersfeather/pseuds/petersfeather
Summary: “Nice.  That’s… that’s cool.  You know… rockin’ and rollin’ and… whatnot.”“.... what? What in the world does that evenmean, you insufferable prick?”Or a Grease AU where Harry is Danny, Draco is Sandy, and everyone is stressed.  (AndI’vetaken quite a few liberties.)





	Rockin' and Rollin' and Whatnot

**Author's Note:**

> ohmygod hi
> 
> so over a year (maybe even a year and a half???) ago I saw [this](https://midgart.tumblr.com/post/147119556062/youre-the-one-that-i-want-ooh-ooh-ooh-honey) GORGEOUS fan art by tumblr user midgart and [this](https://missjoplin18.tumblr.com/post/171574279004/darry-grease-film-au-where-harry-is-danny-and) GORGEOUS fanart by tumblr user missjoplin18 and my mind absolutely ran away with the idea of a Harry Potter-Grease AU. I then promptly went searching through AO3 and found [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527222) fanTASTIC fic by parseltonquinq that just made me so excited to write my own.
> 
> and then i had the genius idea to actually TORTURE myself and do... basically the entire musical? w/ so many storylines my head is spinning? so it might be a little slow at the beginning but here you go!
> 
> I tried my damnedest to keep them in character bc it was fun as hell to imagine the HP characters in the world of Grease. I also wanted to torture myself more by keeping them in England (bc imagining them w/ American accents makes me feel weird??) but the problem is I've never been outside of America my entire LIFE so I asked people for help and the very ultra lovely slytherins-thestral @tumblr helped me out in making this seem authentic to English life! (but also MAJOR disclaimer, they never actually looked over this, I just asked questions when I had them, so any actual inconsistencies are 100% mine.) another problem w/ that is that Grease is like..... so fucking American. so if the mix between weirdo American culture and Brit culture is too jarring, lemme know and I'll do something about it somehow
> 
> also another MAJOR shout out to seductresses-temple @tumblr for talking me through my insane ideas about this bc WOW was i a mess and this lovely human is the actual loveliest human and not only listened to me ramble but got me on track and kept me there! ♥ augh
> 
> Fair Warning: there's like... some kind of smut in here? it's less smut and more Intense Feelings + boys getting naked so i dunno what you wanna call that but it's there! don't get blindsided
> 
> Also I can promise I'm not JK Rowling so I don't own these lil humans nor do I own the plot of Grease! i barely own my dignity here, guys, so cut me some slack ♥♥
> 
> anyway, so I've been working on this for over a year and half and it's already HORRIFICALLY long and it isn't done and I told myself I wasn't going to post it until it was, but I just???? suddenly got an intense urge to post the first half and started listening to the Grease soundtrack and my heart BURST so i'm gonna post the ""first act"" and then i'll finish it i PROMISE ♥
> 
> I also want to apologize to everyone who read this in the first few days that I posted this bc I fucked up my italics and didn't know how to fix it but hopefully they're fixed now!!
> 
> okay throw your mittens around your kittens aND.... yeah. ♥

The summer before Senior year is meant to be a magical and unforgettable experience, and for two boys fortunate enough to meet each other on the sands of one of the prettiest beaches in England, the summer has been more than exceptional.

The orange and pink on the horizon makes the beach look like paradise, but what has truly cinched such a feeling of paradise has been the summer that Draco and Harry have shared. They’ve been doing mundane little summer activities that both would probably scoff at when among their normal social circles, but felt like they were laced with magic this summer. A flash of memories goes through Draco’s mind as he leans down a bit to rest his head on the boy’s shoulder, holding him close.

From the first time he caught sight of Harry as Draco was calmly wading in the water, to building sandcastles that Draco always tricked Harry into stepping in, to the night that they went bowling and Harry snogged him up against the far wall where the light was out… everything felt electric and true and downright _magical_.

And it’s all ending tomorrow.

Draco pulls himself away from Harry’s shoulder to look out at the horizon, holding back a sigh.

_I’m not going to succumb to that amount of cheesiness_

But that doesn’t stop his flair for the dramatic.

“I’m going back to France.” He says wistfully in the direction of the sunset. France is lovely, but he can’t help but feel he’ll be leaving something important behind when he goes. “I’m never going to see you again.”

He still has his arms around Harry’s neck and turns his head to match eyes with the green eyed boy. Harry’s looking at Draco so fondly that the platinum haired boy feels like he could melt into a puddle and join the ocean. Harry’s skin is so tan and beautiful and absolutely _golden_.

_What a gorgeous Golden Boy._

“Don’t talk that way, Draco.” Harry’s statement doesn’t sound like a reprimand, more like an amused reminder, but Draco still can’t help but stiffen a bit in defense.

“It’s true.” He says, knowing his voice probably has a posh hint to it. For a second he worries that it’ll push Harry away, but the amused look in the boy’s emerald eyes only grows. Draco continues, feeling a little deflated thinking about the sadness of reality. “This summer has been… far more exceptional than I could have ever imagined. But now I’m heading back to France and I have to attend this private school that’s honestly just a drag and I…” He huffs at the desperation in his voice, but he can’t help it. “It isn’t fair.”

Draco knows full well that he’s pouting and can hear Harry chuckle a bit before tilting Draco’s head up from where it was looking down at the sand beneath their feet. He pulls Draco’s face in gently, giving a slow and near sinful kiss and when Draco responds positively, Harry becomes far fiercer.

He slides his tongue along Draco’s lips while letting his hands glide down from the top of Draco’s back right down to his ass, giving a harsh squeeze and making Draco gasp and squirm a bit.

It feels good, but Draco squirms out of Harry’s grasp enough so he can look Harry in the eye.

“Come on, Harry, there’s no need to spoil it.” he reprimands rather sternly.

“I’m not spoiling it, Draco, I’m only making it better!” Harry laughs, giving Draco’s ass another firm squeeze as he goes to pull him in for another kiss.

This was definitely not the right thing to say.

“Making it better?” Draco asks, slipping his arms from around Harry’s neck to in between them so he can push the boy off of him. He then crosses his arms in front of him, a sign that _someone_ fucked up. “Oh, you pawing your hands all over me on a public beach is supposed to make it better?”

“I… uhm.”

“You truly think I’m _that_ easy?”

“No! Uh…”

“I am a _Malfoy_, Potter. We do _not_ allow ourselves to be snogged and felt up in the middle of a fucking _public beach_”

“Right… right… sorry.”

Draco gives him a poisonous stare, before slipping into a smirk. “At least have the decency to take me under the docks first.”

Harry’s eyes light up and he drags the two of them over to the dock.

~~~

About fifteen minutes later, after a very hot make out session mixed with a mutual hand job leaves them both flushed and panting and (nearly) sated, Draco is beginning to feel sentimental again. He’s wallowing to himself about how upsetting it is to have to leave when he feels Harry brush the hair off of his forehead. Just as he’s about to complain about having his hair touched, the raven haired boy presses a soft and loving kiss to the newly exposed forehead before nuzzling it with his nose and Draco is sure he’s gone absolutely mental at the next thought he has:

_I love this boy._

He pulls Harry tightly against him, again bending at the waist a bit to let his head lay on Harry’s broad shoulder. Their still naked cocks touch. Draco gasps lightly and squeezes tighter against him.

“Harry…” he starts, utterly confused by his feelings but needing to say something. “Is this the end of it?”

Harry chuckles into a small groan - probably at the feeling of Draco against him - before turning his head to kiss at Draco’s temple.

“Of course not,” he replies, a sureness in his voice that could trick Draco any day. “It’s only the beginning.”

~~~*~~~

((Cue "Grease" by Frankie Valli))

Harry groans with sleep as he wakes up with the sound of a familiar song coming from his radio in his room. He wiggles a bit to the beat before getting out of bed, unable to see too much through his shaggy hair in front of his face.

He needs to cut it; Remus always tells him so. Sirius usually shakes his head behind Remus, giving Harry a thumbs up that Harry can barely see through his hair. It always makes him chuckle anyway.

He scratches any residual itches from waking up and turns the music on the radio even louder.

_I solve my problems and I see the light…_

He thinks he can hear Remus calling for him before he hears the same voice go: “Leave him alone, you used to blast music every morning.”

Harry gives a light chuckle before getting up to his feet and dancing around a bit on his way to the bathroom. Anyone less acclimated to his room would probably injure themselves on the mess that covers almost the entirety of his floor. The stray wire coat hangers and black rotary dial phone would be formidable opponents to anyone who didn’t have walking around the room down to an exact science. Very few people do.

He dances his way all the way to the bathroom next door to his room, snapping what in his head is coolly, but in actuality is sleepy and fumbled and soft. It almost keeps Sirius from being irritated.

“His music is too loud if he can hear it outside of his room.”

Remus chuckles. “Oh come on, you literally did this every morning before Harry got a radio.”

“Yes, but my music is actually good.”

Remus laughs. “Just admit that you’re not as cool as you say you ar-”

“Lies!” Sirius explodes, and Harry jumps from where he’s doing his hair in the mirror. He scowls and combs his hair back into place.

“Lies!” Sirius continues to yell. “Falsities! How dare you! I am the coolest! Harry!”

Harry jumps again. “What?!” He yells back, irritated.

“TURN THE MUSIC UP LOUDER.” His uncle’s voice comes from down the hall.

Harry rolls his eyes through his smirk, trying to make the finishing touches on his hair before he emerges from the bathroom.

He sees his uncles at the end of the hall, Remus giving Harry a friendly smile while Sirius childishly sticks his tongue out at his husband.

“Morning, fawn!” Remus beams from down the hall. “Come over to the kitchen for some breakfast. I made-”

Harry opens his mouth to say something before-

“Nope!” Sirius intervenes, putting his arm in front of Remus. “I know this one! Cool kids don’t _care_ about breakfast.” He gives a very pointed look at Remus, who has one eyebrow raised.

Harry opens his mouth to say something before being cut off again.

“Only toast!” Sirius says cheerfully. He puffs his chest out like a proud puppy.

Remus is not impressed. “Sirius, I made Harry pancakes for his first day of school.”

“Nope! You’ve heard Harry, he’s a _cool_ kid and pancakes are for _squares_.”

“I’m not a kid…” Harry mutters as his uncles bicker goodnaturedly. He speaks up to make sure they can hear him. “I don’t need any pancakes… o-or toast. It’s okay.” He goes into his room to turn his radio off and slip into some clothes.

“Hold on, you at least need toast!” Sirius yells, his voice full of concern as Harry hears his footsteps rush closer. Harry rolls his eyes and makes sure his jeans are rolled up properly before grabbing his jacket. He opens his door to find his uncles with concern on their faces.

“I don’t need any breakfast, I’m really not hungry.”

“You need toast! Cool kids eat toast!”

Harry rolls his eyes, once again regretting that one morning that he gave in to his uncle Sirius’ puppy dog eyes and told him the breakfast all the “cool kids” eat.

“I’m fine, I need to get to school.”

“It’s your first day and I made pancakes!” Remus says as Harry passes them and goes into the hall.

“It’s sweet but…”

“You’re going to eat breakfast.” Remus asserts in a calm fashion, walking next to Harry.

“At least some toast!” Sirius pipes up, trotting to catch up to them. “And orange juice. How are your bones doing? Do you need some milk as well?”

Harry can’t help but give a light hearted chuckle as he’s lightly pushed to sit down at their round kitchen table.

“And pancakes. I made them chocolate chip for your first day!” Remus says, brightly. “I know school can be stressful, but the chocolate will make you feel better.”

Harry smiles brightly. He would never let anyone at school see him like this, being fawned over by his uncles who are constantly feeding him and taking care of him. He’s almost embarrassed by their near coddling as he’s gotten older. He has to keep his pride in check when he’s with his friends. If they saw him being coddled like this still, they would give him hell for _weeks_.

So he likes to keep it at home… and he almost feels selfish doing it. His uncles are so loving and have always cared for him in the best way in the absence of his parents. Harry feels like he’ll never stop being grateful.

But he can’t let anyone else know. So he’ll just try to keep their coddling to the confines of their home, smiling at his uncles as they drink their coffees and complimenting Remus on the pancakes.

~*~

The sweet songs that come from the birds outside of Draco’s window help him wake up gracefully, slowly opening his eyes and taking in the view of the dark green canopy over his bed. He sits up primly, pulling the satin covers off of him. He gingerly steps out of bed and into cushioned slippers before setting the covers back where they’re meant to be. Making sure his bed is wrinkle free, the blond saunters across his room to his vanity to fix his hair for his first day of school, passing by numerous windows as well as a very tidy and extravagant fireplace. If it was possible, his room would sparkle with how neat and clean it is.

In the mirror he can see his hair is at it’s usual mess-level without his hair product that keeps it in a place that seems both effortless but groomed. Yet, even through a full night’s rest, his hair is nowhere near unkempt. A Malfoy’s hair never is.

That is, unless under the dock of a certain beach… with a certain boy... after… he pushes the thought from his mind as he sits in front of his vanity.

Draco reaches over to the corner of the desk, turning on his radio far louder than he normally does, hoping to drown out any less than calming thoughts, along with any memory of particularly stunning eyes.

_Grease is the way we are feeling…_

He looks over to the window on the wall next to his vanity, opening the panes a bit to allow the singing birds to sit on the sill. They tweet happily at him and he can’t help but sigh as he looks at them. A few butterflies fly through briefly, twirling around his head as if he’s a woodland fairy, but even the attention he’s getting from such beatific nature hasn’t cheered up his mood.

_We take the pressure and we throw away… conventionality belongs to yesterday…_

He sighs again, this time at the words echoing through his room and possibly outside of it, and he reaches for his every day hair products. As Draco busies himself with making his hair absolutely perfect, he begins to hear voices outside. He pushes the panes open a bit more.

“_Goodbye, my dear Narcissa. I will be back by the evening._” Draco can see the top of his father’s white-blond head, but can’t make out the facial expressions. He doesn’t need to when the next statement lifts up into Draco’s ears from his second story bedroom: “_And do tell your son to turn that insufferable music off, we do not need our neighbors to think we are raising a… hooligan._”

Draco bristles at his father’s words. He reaches for the knob on his radio, willing himself to turn it up but only achieving such an action once he hears his father’s car drive away.

He finishes his hair and picks out his clothing, getting dressed a little more angrily than he does on a normal day, more than a little irate with his father.

Draco almost doesn’t hear his mother knock on the door. She enters after he calls his permission to her.

“Good morning, Draco.” She states primly, holding her hands together in front of her and standing respectfully at the doorway. He waits for her to tell him to turn his music off, down, anything, but she doesn’t even look at the radio.

He turns it down out of politeness to her and their conversation.

“Good morning, mother.” He stands up from his vanity to lightly shoo the birds away before swiftly closing his window. He can’t help the slightly desperate sigh that slips from his lips as he watches the two birds twirl around each other and fly away.

“Now, don’t tell me that you miss your old school.” Comes his mother’s voice, even and just on the edge of reprimanding. “Truly, how could anyone miss someplace so _stuffy_ and _dull_ and _honestly just a drag_.”

Draco turns sharply towards his mother to see her giving him a very pointed look. He’s unable to school his surprised expression for a second, shocked that she overheard his conversation with their maid Winnie a couple of days ago.

“I don’t appreciate when you act as if I don’t live in the same home that you do.” His mother continues, tilting her head down slightly in a silent and reprimanding stare.

He shakes himself out of his shock, wearing an even expression as he walks across the room to distract himself by putting his favorite cologne on.

He hears her tsk from her spot in the doorway.

“Come now, my dragon. I know you didn’t really love your school in France, but you musn’t be so sad at this one either. I fear no place will ever make you happy.”

His shoulders tense at the statement, but immediately relax when he feels his mother’s hands wrapping around his shoulder. She presses her nose and lips to the side of his head in quiet affection. It’s short but it’s so sweet that it makes Draco’s entire body warm. Just as quickly as it began, however, it ends, and his mother is exiting the room gracefully.

“There are scones and clotted cream and fresh fruit on the table for your breakfast. If you would like Winnie to drive you to school, do let her know soon.”

With that, her strong and quiet presence is gone and Draco is back to his thoughts.

He checks his reflection in his vanity yet again, looks out the window a little more than wistfully, and quickly exits his room, grabbing his book bag on the way out.

~~~

A radio is crackling out in the corner of a lived in room, aesthetic yet nearly cozy. No one but her close friends would imagine Pansy Parkinson to have a room anything less than cold, perhaps even dungeon-like, but her room is all dark tones with greens and grays and wood that elicit a comfiness one could describe as close to a cafe.

_We start believing now that we can be who we are… Grease is the word…_

“_Gods_ Ginny _nothing_ looks good on me this morning what has _happened_.” Pansy speaks into her olive green rotary phone as she looks at her reflection in the mirror.

She’s just struggled her way into a bright pink turtleneck that she bought recently to go out in. It looked marvelous on her in the store, like a brighter, pinker version of Marilyn Monroe convincing everyone she’s just as much brain as she is beauty. She felt sexy, but right now she can only find herself resembling a strangely taffy-like giraffe.

An exasperated groan comes from the other end of the call.

“Pans, I’m sure you look _stunning_, as you _always_ do…” Ginny Weasley’s voice crackles in. A loud retching sound suddenly comes from the other end, followed by a male yelp and Ginny giving unintelligible threats to whichever brother was “puking” at the thought of Pansy.

The dark haired girl would snicker at the thought of a Weasley brother being injured, were she not picking at her turtleneck in her vanity mirror.

“Just pick something to wear and come _pick me up_.” Ginny’s voice roars to life again, sounding more irritated than before. “We still have to pick up Luna. You’re going to make us all late for our first day of school!”

Pansy rolls her eyes before putting down the phone on her desk so she can lift her turtleneck up and off, tossing it somewhere out of sight. She picks the receiver up and places it between her neck and shoulder before picking up her last article of clothing she’s picked out: a short sleeved, black, button down blouse.

She puts it on and buttons it up while speaking to her friend. “Oh do take a breath, my dear Ginny. You know as well as I do that I must be allowed to take all the time I need.”

“It’s the _first day of school_.” Ginny’s slightly tinny voice seethes.

“Which makes it absolutely _imperative_ that I look my _very best_. I need to assert my dominance Gin.” Her perfectly manicured nails place the last button, the one that allows for her blouse to show just the right amount of cleavage. “You only get one last first day of school.”

Ginny grumbles something irritably through the phone and Pansy smirks, knowing the girl is irritated about being a year younger.

“I’ll be there soon, love.” Pansy assures her friend and hangs up the phone before the other can give a biting remark. She slips on some heels, grabs her keys from her desk, turns off the radio, and saunters out of her room.

~*~

A large radio is blasting music throughout the entire autogarage, the perfect volume to be heard clearly over the auto body work being done.

_This is the life of illusion… wrapped up in trouble… laced with confusion… what are we doing here…_

Charlie Weasley is humming and nodding his head along to the song as he circles the old, run down car like it’s his prey. Ron Weasley is standing with his arms crossed, desperately trying to keep his cool but unable to stop his excited hops that are giving him away.

“So this is really mine?”

Charlie smirks as he continues to stalk the convertible in front of him. He stops at the side of his little brother and nods his head.

“All yours. Happy birthday, Ron.”

Ron can’t stop his excited inhale, shaking slightly with the happiness that bubbles up inside of him like he’s a shaken up, red capped coke bottle before he bursts and wraps his older brother up in a tight hug.

He feels his brother tense, slow and careful to hug him back, and Ron guesses it’s because his brother has become incredibly unused to hugs from the younger boy. Ron doesn’t hug anyone other than his mum. He hasn’t since he started high school, determined to declare himself “cool” to all around him.

This just couldn’t be helped though. His older brother has found him a car, something he’s been _begging_ for ever since he learned to drive. He knows he visibly drools over every car Charlie brings into his shop. He knows he virtually loses any cool he typically forces himself to have when looking at all the Studebakers and Cadillacs. And he knows that he’s lost every single ounce of cool in this moment as he squishes his brother in the biggest hug he’s ever given, but he cannot help it.

“It’s perfect!” He roars as he pulls away from Charlie and walks over to his new car.

It’s a white, 1950 Ford Anglia convertible. Well… it looks white. The white color might be the primer, he’s not entirely sure. He’s never claimed to know anything about cars, that’s his brother’s job.

“Can we turn it on?” He asks, fully aware of his eyes sparkling and not caring in the slightest. Charlie tilts his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s not quite… running yet.” He admits, pulling a bit at his small ponytail before shooting a glance at his brother. 

Ron doesn’t mask his disappointment.

“Yet!” Charlie reassures him, holding his hands out in front of him in what seems like defense. “I promise I’ll have it roaring like a _dragon_ by the time I’m done with it. I’m gonna need your help though.”

Ron nods in determination. He’s knows his brother is fully aware that he doesn’t know the first thing about cars, but this car is _his_ and like hell if he isn’t going to make it the most beautiful thing on the road.

He reaches over to hug Charlie again, this time feeling the boy immediately reciprocate. He smiles a bit before pulling away quickly, searching for his leather jacket.

“So,” Ron calls to his older brother, finding his jacket on a stray chair. “You gonna drive me to school?”

He turns around, jacket in hand, to look into the stunned face of the older redhead. “You want your older brother to drive you to _school_?”

There’s no judgement in his tone, only shocked amazement that snaps Ron back into place.

“Oh _gods_, you’re right!” He shrieks, rather un-cooly, as he puts his jacket on and pops the collar. “I can’t have everyone see me pull into the school with my _brother_ driving me!”

Ron saunters over to the open garage door, passing his smirking and sighing brother, and giving him a pat on the shoulder. He continues through the door, calling a goodbye behind him.

Charlie’s response comes loudly: “Be sure to swing by here after school to help me with your new hunk of junk!”

~~~*~~~

Hogwarts High is an almost impossibly large school, looming enough to be ominous on the outside, with enough rooms and hallways and stairways to confuse any and every incoming freshman on the inside. There are many big windows in the light brick siding that allow for a lot of natural light, but that does nothing to make it any less foreboding, while somehow still welcoming. Everyone always says that, had it been built with spires, the building could pass for a castle.

Save for the large crowd of loud and immature teenagers constantly streaming in and out of it.

The foliage outside is stupendous and makes just about everyone a little more than anxious because sometimes they _swear_ they can see the trees swaying on their own, even when there’s no wind in the air.

Half the school swears the place is haunted. The upperclassmen all band together to scare the underclassmen with horror stories of people magically disappearing in the stairwells and teachers teleporting so that they always know what’s going on and spirits that wander and haunt frightened freshmen specifically.

It’s a heap of fun, and it’s always accentuated on the first day of school.

There are people scurrying and others sauntering up to the steps of the building, all getting ready for their first day. Even though it’s school- something notoriously dreaded by most -there’s still a sense of excitement in the air for what this year could potentially offer all of them.

Dean has his right arm around Seamus’ shoulder as they saunter down the walkway in front of their school, their signature T-Bird leather jackets on their backs. Blaise Zabini is walking on Seamus’ right hand side, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched in a way that makes him look cool and almost dangerous; like stalking his prey. He too has a leather jacket, the same exact one that the others do, sans the decal on the back. Every T-Bird was ready to give Blaise a jacket, but Ron was livid and refused, saying: “You don’t even want to become one of us permanently! You can’t just pick and choose!” Blaise only rolled his eyes.

Dean is smiling as his eyes slide over to his boyfriend under his arm, and then down to the paper bag in the boy’s hands. He smirks and swipes it from his grasp.

“Oi, you’re not meant to _eat_ this…” He begins, looking at the bag with a concern that he’s tricked his boyfriend with numerous times.

“What do you mean?” The Irish boy asks, and Dean snickers, probably at the concern he hears in his Seamus’ voice.

“You’re meant to _bury_ it!” Dean is laughing something bright and ringing as he holds the brown bag out of the short boy’s reach.

“Hey!” Seamus shouts, making little noises of struggle as he does his best to get his lunch back. “That’s a perfectly good homemade lunch!”

Dean is still laughing as he reaches over Seamus’ head and hands the bag to Blaise, who holds it away from Seamus as they continue to walk.

“Did your old hag truly drag her carcass out of bed just to pack you a _lunch_?” His voice sounds bored as he holds it out to his right. Dean is holding Seamus back. “What’s in it, _coddle_*?”

Blaise snickers at how red Seamus’ face gets.

“None of your business!” Seamus yells, pulling away from Dean and finally grabbing at his bag. Both Dean and Blaise have had their fun and give in. “And my mum _always_ makes me a lunch the first day of school!”

He sounds so ridiculously juvenile but Dean kisses the boy’s temple as if he hasn’t said anything even remotely embarrassing. Blaise takes his stance back, hands in pockets, as he rolls his eyes.

Seamus seems to be done huffing, because suddenly he’s gasping and punching his boyfriend in the arm in his excitement.

“There’s Ron!”

There Ron is indeed, waltzing up through the trees and giving a slightly intimidating glare to a doe eyed, dorky freshman. Even the newbie knows not to mess with the leather clad, broad shouldered boy.

“Ron!” Seamus calls far louder than he needs to. “Over here!” Dean slings an arm over Seamus’ shoulder and presses a hand to his mouth to quiet him.

Ron snickers as he strides up, smiling to the boys and dropping it a little when he sees Blaise with them.

“Where _were_ you all summer?” Dean asks, Seamus scowling a little in his boyfriends direction before looking at Ron to wait for his answer. “I could never get a hold of you.”

“Who are you, my mum?” Ron asks, a chuckle in his voice as he smacks Dean on the back harshly in some weird and violent form of greeting. It nearly knocks the wind out of him.

“Oi!” Dean coughs and Seamus and Blaise’s eyes twinkle with humor. “I was just asking, you big loaf! And I may as well be your mum’s _best friend_ with how often I talked to her this summer whilst trying to get a hold of you!”

Ron shrugs nonchalantly, looking at Dean’s hand that’s still around Seamus’ mouth. “I was working.”

Seamus’ eyes widen as he pulls Dean’s now relaxed hand away from his mouth. “Working?’

Ron has a proud look on his face as he puffs his chest out a bit. “I was lugging boxes for Madam Malkin.”

Blaise gives a loud snort. “Malkin’s? You lugged around boxes of cloth for Malkin? Nice job.”

“Fuck off.” Ron growls, less than friendly but not entirely rude either. Blaise shoots an amused smirk in the redhead’s direction. “It’s better than you lot have! And I’ve even saved up enough for a car.” His face melts into a dazed and happy expression.

“Wanna hear what I did?” Seamus asks eagerly, looking to Ron.

“Not particularly…” Ron says, eyes surveying the crowds, obviously in search of someone.

Dean pats his boyfriend’s shoulder as his posture becomes defeated. “Have any of you seen.... Harry!”

A dark haired boy, hair done up in a curly, almost messy ducktail with a bit of curls popping out of the front, is currently leaning against the front wall of the school. He’s talking to a blushing but clearly flirty girl, who is in the middle of giving him a sly smile and looking up at him through too-dark eyelashes. His stance is cool and cocky, right hand pressed against the wall and left hip popped out in a way that makes him look the perfect amount of masculine and feminine.

Girls and boys are eyeing him up in his tight black jeans and tight white t-shirt, T-Bird jacket on and showing everyone what group he belongs to. The more courageous of the gawkers are very blatant about checking him out while the more bashful ones are far more sly. Watching students gawk over Harry always makes the members of the T-Birds chuckle.

“Harry!” Dean calls again through a smirk as the group walks a little closer.

The boy hears the call this time, turning his head around with wide and curious green eyes and one dark eyebrow raised. As soon as he recognizes his friends, stalking closer to him, he gives a knowing and near sinful smile. He turns away from the girl without another word spoken, much to her dismay. Her smile fades and she says something to her friends as they all three walk away, eyeing the group of boys cruelly.

None of the boys care too much, far too occupied with their reunion, calling to each other and laughing through a flurry of patted backs.

“How’ve you been Harry? See any good candidates over there?” Blaise asks, a lascivious grin on his face that makes Harry’s cheeks color a bit through his knowing chuckle.

“No, just the same old folks.” He gives the boy a clap on the shoulder and it’s clear he’s trying not to melt under Blaise’s dark gaze.

“And where were _you_ all summer, oh Chosen One?” Dean asks, arms crossing in front of his chest. Seamus and Ron laugh when Harry turns his attention to Dean in surprise, probably at his slightly infamous nickname. “I called your home nearly every week and I could only get a hold of your uncle Remus. Charming lad, by the way, dunno why we don’t ever get to meet him.”

Harry’s face colors even more, most likely for a different reason than just a second ago. He fixes the collar on his jacket before he responds. “I was at the beach most of the summer. You know how it is.”

Seamus’ eyes twinkle with mischief. “Yeah, I know! It must have been really hard with every teen in town hanging all over you!” The short Irish boy gives Harry a little punch on the arm.

“The only one who wants to hang around you is Dean.” Blaise’s tone is good natured, no matter what Ron would say about it, as he musses up the boy’s hair a bit. Seamus is indignant.

“Oi! That’s fine! I wouldn’t have it any other way!” He says, hooking an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and squishing himself into him. Dean laughs and shakes his head.

“So Harry,” Ron starts, moving a little closer to Harry. “Get any action down at the beach?” He keeps his voice low, perhaps thinking the person Harry could have gotten action with might be someone who goes to the school.

“Ah,” Harry starts, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and playing with the little bit of stray hairs there; a terrible habit of his. It’s clear he’s trying to think of what to say. “Yeah, I got a little bit.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, an amused smirk on his face at his friend’s blush. “Crazy, huh?”

“Well, I met this one guy…” Harry begins, sitting in his other hip and flipping the collar up on his jacket. “He was a pretty cool bloke.” It’s clear that Harry doesn’t know exactly what to say, and such a reaction isn’t typical for the brunet.

Seamus doesn’t appear to notice.

“Yeah? Tell me Harry… how _occupied_ did the two of you get over summer?” There’s a glint in Seamus’ eye and Harry blushes.

“Is that all you ever care about?”

“Trust!” Seamus laughs, giving a wink and nudge to the taller boy who gives a rather harsh punch back.

They all five start their slow ascent up to the school as the bell rings.

None of them notice the two blondes walking a little ways behind them.

“Don’t be nervous Draco, you look lovely!”

Luna Lovegood, with a brightly colored and strangely decaled tank top, slightly clashing flowy skirt, and Pink Ladies jacket, is bouncing along next to Draco. Her efforts to console him make his eyebrows furrow, considering he hadn’t told her anything about being nervous and felt as though he was doing a rather good job of keeping his emotions in check.

He gives the girl a questioning look, which is returned with an innocently blank expression that Draco almost doesn’t believe for a minute.

He looks back to the school, tilting his head up to take in the height.

“So this is the famed Hogwarts?”

Luna smiles and makes a happy sound in response. “Yes! I’m sure you’ll love it!”

Draco struggles against making a sound of indignation. “As drab as my old school was, I feel as though it still surpasses this one.”

Luna grabs Draco’s hand and he’s somehow not angry at it. “Oh no! This school is lovely, you’ll see! And you don’t even have to worry about the nargles! They’re always rather quiet on the first day of school.”

Draco attempts to process the nonsense as he’s being lightly tugged into the building.

~*~

A 1948, light pink Studebaker Commander Regal pulls into the side parking lot, kids wandering around all over the place as they greet their friends and walk into the school. Pansy and Ginny climb out of the car, the dark haired girl putting her keys in her purse.

Ginny is less than happy.

“Oh do quit your pouting, _Ginevra_.” Pansy drawls, a smirk on her face that turns into a cackle as Ginny shoots daggers and goes to punch Pansy anywhere she can reach.

“_Don’t call me that._” Ginny seethes, pulling her Pink Ladies jacket a little tighter onto herself in her frustration. “And it’s still your fault we couldn’t pick up Luna.”

“How many times do I have to apologize for not picking up your sweet little girlfriend?”

Ginny reaches over to punch her again.

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend!” Her face is about as red as her hair. “And you haven’t even apologized once!”

Pansy waves a delicate hand dismissively.

Ginny continues in irritation, her blush never fading. “Besides, she’s your friend too, isn’t she?”

“Of course she is.” Pansy says matter of factly, re-adjusting her Pink ladies jacket as it hangs loosely on her shoulders. “But _I’m_ not the one who’s throwing a fit over not seeing her first thing in the morning.”

Pansy cackles again at the pout that once again forms on Ginny’s face.

“C’mon Gin. It’s my senior year! Put a little smile on for me.”

Ginny gives a quick, fake smile, until she glances at Pansy and puts on a genuine grin.

“There’s my girl.” Pansy croons, adjusting her pink jacket one again. “Let’s go get ‘em, love.”

The two strut in sync towards the school, people moving out of the way for them as usual.

~*~

As is typical for the first day of school at Hogwarts High, the freshmen are getting tormented in the hallway. Kids are getting chased around by a group of boys who have put their black hoods up and are moaning like ghosts. Others are getting completely lost as a group of seniors came around early in the morning to put different numbers on the classroom doors. One boy has fallen down the stairs after being nearly petrified by a boy named Tom who brought his snake to school. Again.

Malfoy steps around the boy on the ground as he refuses to look anyone in the eye and searches for the main office. He was absolutely sure he had the right number, but none of the numbers are making any sense. He sees a rather official looking woman walk by, back straight and face a mask of elegance and authority.

He thinks it best to follow her, walking into a room with separate offices leading off of it, all bussing with stress. Teachers are complaining about students they have and equipment being stolen and the bell has just rung. Draco sneers.

“How many days until Christmas vacation?” One rather exasperated teacher asks the secretary. Draco walks up to the counter and sets his books down.

“86.” He responds.

“86?” She asks, an expression of horror on her face. Draco can relate.

“I’m counting.” He drawls, unamused. The woman huffs a sigh of defeat and walks away.

A voice in front of him clears her throat. Draco turns his attention to her, less than thrilled about being anywhere near here.

“How may I help you, dear?”

Draco does his best not to sigh in disappointment at how messily this whole school seems to be put together.

“It’s my first day and I have absolutely no idea where I’m meant to be. I was told there was paperwork for me to do before class?” _And I should have been able to do this ages ago but you lot insisted it wouldn’t be ready for me until the morning of school and your laughable establishment doesn’t open their office until right when the damned bell rings._

Draco tries not to sneer.

“Ah yes! Here’s some paperwork for you to fill out.”

He’s given a small stack of papers and looks down at it in distaste.

“Have you got a pencil?” He asks before looking up to see the secretary has run off somewhere. He sighs before a woman with circular glasses that makes her look like an owl and clothing that makes it clear her glasses don’t do their job very well stops right beside him.

“Oh! Here my dear.” The woman reaches up into her rat’s nest of a hairstyle and pulls out a pencil, before rushing off to God knows where.

Draco Malfoy wants to scream and vomit all at once.

~*~

“Bloody fucking hell, every teacher on this list has already flunked me at least once!”

“Not that hard of an achievement.”

All 5 of the T-Birds (well, 4 official and 1 unofficial) have stayed behind in the hallway after the second bell. Harry is leaning against the wall, facing away from the boys and eyeing up the last of the stragglers as they file into their respective classrooms. Ron taps his shoulder and brings him back to earth as they begin walking down the hall.

Seamus is looking at his schedule for this school year, face full of horror at his teachers the teachers he has and Blaise just couldn’t help but give the boy a bit of a ribbing.

Dean and Harry snicker and Ron plays along for the moment.

“You’ll need to be careful, Seamus, or you’re gonna be spending the whole year in McGonagall’s office.” Dean nudges his boyfriend in the shoulder.

“Nope!” Seamus cries, determined. “Not gonna happen! She’s gonna wish she had never seen me.”

Blaise rolls his eyes. “And what are you going to do, exactly?”

Seamus puffs his chest out. “I’m just not gonna to take any shite! I don’t take shite from anyone!” His confidence would almost astound Harry if he didn’t know it was going to be broken right this second. He watches Seamus stride ahead confidently, right past the main office where McGonagall happens to be walking out. Harry puts his hands out and they all stop and face away casually.

So, _so_ casually.

“Mister Finnigan.” Ms. McGonagall has strode up to the small Irish boy, her stoic figure towering above him as he turns around.

Harry nearly loses his cool when he sees the look on Seamus’ face. He has to elbow Ron before the redhead loses it and blows their “cover”.

“Oh, uh, huh, hullo ma’am.”

“I believe now is the time that you’re meant to be in homeroom, yes?” Harry doesn’t need to see her face to know her eyebrow is raised lethally.

“Uh, yes ma’am. Was just… walking.” He answers lamely. Ron snorts and Harry covers his friends mouth.

“You mean _dawdling_, Mr. Finnigan?”

“Uh, yes ma’am.” His voice is getting smaller.

“I’m sure I don’t have to be the one to tell you that this is not an appropriate way of starting off a new semester.”

She places her hands on her hips and turns away, looking like she’s going to cut the boy some slack. But then Seamus, being the hot tempered Irish boy that he is, begins to bitterly mutter Gaelic curses under his breath.

The woman turns back around, her glare a storm and Harry knows it. He nearly snorts to which Ron covers his mouth right back.

“Perhaps cleaning some erasers would put you in the right mindset, Mr. Finnigan?”

“Yes ma’am.” Harry is about to die from lack of oxygen as he holds his breath trying to keep his laughter in.

“I trust you’re not going to stand here all day?”

“No ma’am. I mean, y-yes ma’am. I mean-”

“Which is it Mr. Finnigan?”

“No ma’am.”

“Good. I hope I am not wrong in the assumption that you can make it to your class without needing to be escorted.” Her hands are clasped in front of her and her tone is pointed and Harry is sure his face is red with holding his breath.

The vice principal turns around and heads back into her office. Harry realizes she makes a point not to look at the 4 other boys currently huddled near each other against the wall. He figures it’s because she doesn’t want to bother reprimanding anyone else.

Seamus’ face might as well be on fire with how red it is and Harry does nothing to spare him as he saunters up to the boy and gets down in his face a bit.

“I’m definitely glad you didn’t take any shite, Seamus.” Harry hopes that the boy can take some now, though, because he’s certainly gonna get some.

“Yes ma’am, no ma’am.” Blaise mocks, leering evilly. Dean walks up to his boyfriend and musses up his hair a bit, much to the Irish boy’s dismay.

“Will you lot just fuck off?” The 4 other boys laugh, patting their friend on the back as they take their time getting to class.

“Hermione?” Ron calls, seeing a bushy haired girl escorting a student into his classroom. She gives the boy a kind smile before turning to the voice that has called her, smiling shyly through her blush.

“Hello Ron.” The girl begins, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and blushing a faint pink before her eyes widen. “H-hello boys!” She recovers, realizing she got caught up.

Harry smiles at his friend, waving a little bit. He likes Hermione and he likes Ron and he hates them both for not realizing yet that they belong together.

“What are you doing wandering the halls, Mione?” Dean asks, a genuine curiosity in his voice. Seamus perks up.

“Yeah! Shouldn’t you be in homeroom?” Ron smacks the shorter boy in the arm.

“I believe I could say the same to you 5.” She says, putting her hands on her hips but smiling a kind smile. “Not that I’m surprised, but just what _are_ you doing wandering the halls like a lot of nomads?”

Seamus’ face twists in confusion. “Hey! No fair, we asked you first!”

Hermione gives a kind natured eye roll. “Well, unlike the 5 of you _I’m sure_,” she sends a pointed look to Harry who shrinks a bit under her gaze and wonders why he’s the one being targeted with such a look, “I’ve been given permission by Vice Principal McGonagall to skip homeroom today. She felt that, seeing as I’m the head of the school council, I would be suited for the job of helping confused students to their classrooms, along with another student of my choosing.”

“Kids still getting confused the first day of school?” Blaise asks, smirking.

Hermione huffs and crosses her arms, nodding.

“Well I’m sure you’re all well aware of the ongoing door prank that some seniors have been pulling since before we came here.” She lifts an eyebrow at the group. “You wouldn’t happen to know who pulled it this year, would you?”

Harry’s face reddens, not because he’s guilty but because of the look his friend is giving them; like that of a disappointed mother who just caught the cat with the cream. He doesn’t know if the other boys have done anything, but he knows he’s not guilty.

They all 5 shake their heads simultaneously. “No.” They chorus.

She gives them a disbelieving look, before Dean changes the subject.

“Who’s your second?” He asks, trying to let his curiosity drown out his fear of the girl.

“Neville Longbottom.” Harry hears Blaise gasp but he can’t reason through why he would do that, so he just ignores it as Hermione continues. “I’m not sure if you all remember him, he had to leave school early in the year last year due to some family business he had to tend to. But he’s back and I decided it would be best for him to get involved in something like the student council. I felt like this first job was a good one for him.”

Ron raises an eyebrow at the girl. “_You_ felt it was good for him to get involved? Did he even mention wanting to get involved?”

Hermione huffs, her face coloring a bit. “Well, of course I _asked_ if he’d be okay with joining and he said yes! I didn’t force the poor boy!”

Harry looks over at the unimpressed look on Ron’s face.

“Well get to class.” Hermione shoos them all away. “You shouldn’t be dawdling in the corridors.”

“You sound like McGonagall!” Seamus groans, walking with Dean to their homeroom.

Ron hits Seamus again before giving Hermione a shy smile and walking up the stairs to get to his class. Harry waves a goodbye, sauntering into a nearby classroom for his first period.

~*~

Meanwhile, up on the second floor, Draco is doing his damned best not to rip someone else’s hair out (because there is no way he would ever mess up his own) as he travels up and down the halls looking for a number that is not here. Every number has been marked over with some horrific paint and new numbers and he feels absolutely ridiculous for ever thinking these stupidly done numbers were real. But now he’s lost and not willing to walk into a classroom that he doesn’t belong in. He is a Malfoy and Malfoy’s do not face such public embarrassment.

So he does his best to wander casually and appear far from flustered, even though, at this moment, him being “far from flustered” is far from the truth.

“U-uhm, excuse me?” A quiet voice reaches Draco’s ears as he lays eyes on a boy who he’s been trying to ignore since wandering the hallways. “D-do you need any help?”

“No, of course not.” Draco says before thinking, completely focused on saving face over anything else. He almost regrets it.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The boy is far more nervous than Draco was prepared for. He begins to listen as the boy starts to ramble his apologizes and decides to take the opportunity to analyze him. So far, being in this place, he has yet to find anyone even remotely worth his time; except for Luna of course.

Luna was quite sweet for how forward she was about becoming friends. She saw Draco very clearly lonely and walked up to him, hair a curly mess and strange but fashionable pink jacket on her back. She wouldn’t let him leave until he could confirm that they were friends and no part of him minded. Admittedly, it confused him slightly.

This boy standing in front of him, however, confused him even more. He was fit as all hell, his arms looking muscular enough to pick him up. Draco’s face nearly flushes at the thought. His legs appear thick yet still built and all around gorgeous, even though they’re not showcased well through his baggy jeans. The blond frowns a bit at this. But going back up to the boy’s face, eyes currently looking anywhere but at the thin blond, Draco can get a good look at the strong jaw and the light adolescent stubble there that makes him look almost rugged in an attractive and youthful way.

He’s no Harry Potter -he’s nowhere near Harry- but if Draco had found this boy on the beach instead… well he certainly wouldn’t have complained.

Draco clears his throat and the nervous boy locks eyes with him. It takes everything in Draco’s body not to sigh at the lack of striking green eyes.

_Certainly not Harry…_

Fit-shy boy looks at Draco like a deer in headlights. Draco twirls his finger in the air, motioning for the boy to get on with it. Fit-shy boy’s eyes widen before he starts stammering again.

“Uh, yes, anyway. I didn’t mean to harm your…” He eyes Draco nervously, and the posh blond only looks at the boy with a single eyebrow raised. Something in him likes watching this strong boy shake a bit in fear. “... uhm, pride? I just, I’ve been assigned to helping students find their classes. I’m sure you’ve noticed the numbers are off.”

Draco gives a curt nod.

“Yes,” The boy continues in what almost sounds like relief, “the seniors have done it again. So I’ve been helping students. Th-that’s why I asked.”

Draco gives another nod, before tilting his head. “Has anyone asked you about this class in particular?” He asks, in a slightly conspiratorial tone. He stands closer to the boy and points to the first classroom on his schedule.

“Ah, yeah.” Fit-shy boy’s eyes slide over to Draco’s figure, who is looking at him expectantly.

“And which classroom did you show them to?”

Fit-shy boy’s face folds into confusion before his eyes widen. “Oh! Uhm, over here.”

He leads them down the hall, to the right, and down some more to a door that Draco has passed countless times. He’s irritated, but puts on a calm face before turning to Fit-shy boy.

“Thank you very much…” He lets his sentence hang, waiting for the boy’s name.

It takes him a minute.

_Bright, this one is._

“Oh! Neville. Longbottom. Neville Longbottom.” He gives a little huff.

Draco doesn’t even attempt to hide his gaze as he eyes the boy’s figure before looking back up into the boy’s eyes. Neville looks incredibly flustered.

Draco hums in disagreement. “No quite accurate, now is it?” He drawls, before slipping into the classroom and noticing Luna sitting in the front row. She gives a bright wave and then eyes the boy next to her, all wide eyed and innocently.

It’s enough to make the boy sigh, pick up his things, and move to another empty seat.

Draco nearly chuckles as he takes the newly vacant desk chair.

~~*~~

Around lunch time, everyone is about ready for a nap. Pansy and Ginny make their way to their usual table, carrying trays that Pansy is clearly in disgust of. Ginny is humming a popular tune before her eyes brighten and she sits to the right side of Luna.

“Hi there Luna! How has your morning been?” Her face is bright and Luna’s reflects a similar light.

“It’s been lovely, thank you, Gin! I’m sorry I wasn’t able to wait for you guys this morning.”

“No worries, it was all Pansy’s fault anyway.” The redhead glares daggers at their friend sitting across the table from them, who sends them a kiss and a wave.

“Hi Luna, it’s good to see your lovely face.”

The girl in question giggles happily and returns the sentiment, before eating some chips.

“Hey, Gin,” Pansy starts with a rather wicked grin on her face. “Did you get a good look at Harry this morning? He looks pretty… handsome, doesn’t he?”

Ginny looks like she’s plotting a murder. “Shut up, Pans, you know that’s ancient history.”

Pansy mocks shock. “Oh, goodness, how could I forget. You’re _hopelessly_ single now, aren’t you?”

Ginny chucks an apple core at the now cackling girl, who leans out of the way effortlessly to dodge it. Ginny grumbles a bit, fiddling with her jacket and sighing.

“_Why_ do we have to wear _pink_ again? It’s so frustrating to constantly wear something that clashes so horribly with my hair.”

“Tradition, Gin.” Pansy states plainly, not looking up from where she’s analyzing and filing her nails. “Can’t break it.”

“Why can’t we change it to green? It’s your favorite color after all.”

Pansy puts down her file pointedy. “Because ‘The Green Ladies’ sounds like a disease.” she states as if they’ve had this conversation a thousand times before (because they have). “And as if anyone needs any more reasons to call me a snake.”

Ginny gives a pointed look. “You say that as if you don’t _enjoy_ being called that.”

Pansy smirks a bit as she picks up her file. “Maybe so, but you know me. I always need a way to get out of predicaments.” She pushes her palms together and puts her hands on the right side of her cheek, faking an innocent look. “‘Oh Principal Dumbledore, sir,’” She begins, putting on a sickly sweet voice. “‘You just don’t understand. All those mean boys and girls have been calling me a _snake_ and I just _couldn’t_ go to my 5th period because I was so distraught!’”

All three girls laugh, Pansy dropping her act.

“How often does that really work?” Ginny inquires.

“Every time. The man is as soft as a marshmallow.” Pansy states, using her unoccupied hand to pop a small chip into her mouth before going back to filing her nails.

Ginny grins before peeking to her left. “Speaking of soft…” She begins, turning her body to face Luna. “What _are_ you wearing, Luna?”

The girl-in-question’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh! It’s a baby dragon and a baby unicorn giving each other an eskimo kiss!” She pulls her tank top out a bit so that the girls have a good look at the image. “And look! There’s little fake fur on the unicorn!”

She begins to pet it and Ginny’s face curves into a sweet and admiring smile. “That’s so…” she begins, grasping for words before landing on: “Adolescent.”

She laughs with Luna, who merely retorts: “We _are_ adolescent!” through a blinding smile.

“No need to flaunt it.” Pansy quips, and Luna sticks a little tongue out at the statement. Pansy purses her lips good naturedly in response.

“Oh!” Luna perks up, raising an arm in the air to hail a person to their table. “Draco! Over here!”

Draco Malfoy is walking slowly over to the occupied table, staring as his tray in very real disgust. He takes a seat at the unoccupied spot next to Pansy, who gives him a surveying glance.

“Ginny, Pansy, this is Draco!” Luna beams like she’s showing off her favorite sweater and something about it makes it far more endearing than it is demeaning.

Pansy gives another appraising look. “New kid?” She asks, eyebrow raised. Draco keeps her stare, determined to hold his own.

Luna seems to not notice any strange tension. “Yes! He’s here from France!”

Pansy places a questioning look on her face before Draco responds.

“I’ve been living in France for my father’s work for a few years, but I was born and largely raised in England.”

Pansy hums in understanding, picking up her juice carton and raising her eyebrows over it as she takes a sip through the straw.

“So, how are you liking the school so far, Draco?” Ginny asks, leaning an elbow on the table.

“It’s…” _a fucking mess, a joke of an establishment, a revolting hell-hole?_ “... different.” There’s contempt on his face and Pansy snorts. Draco smirks a bite into his apple.

“Hello Hermione!” Luna calls cheerfully, waving her hand in the air frantically at some girl named Hermione. Draco turns to his right and sees a bushy haired girl striding up to their lunch table, fit boy-_no, Neville_\- following behind. His lips curl into a bit of a smirk before he can even think about it.

_What a nervous, pretty boy._

“Oh _goody_, it’s Hermione Granger.” Pansy’s voice is poison.

“She’s the brightest student in our year!” Luna adds, whether to contradict Pansy’s poison or being blatantly ignorant to it, Draco isn’t sure.

“I do hope I go blind.” Pansy drawls, head in hand and manicured nails tapping at her cheek bone.

Draco watches the serious faced girl with mild interest.

“Hello everyone. I’m sure you remember Neville Longbottom.” Hermione gestures towards the tall, broad boy who looks rather relieved to have a tray in his hands so that he can’t fidget. “As you know, I’m the class president and I’ve recruited him this year. He’s going to be helping me out with the Student Body.”

“I’d let him help my student body…” A girl who has paused in her venture towards her lunch table is currently standing next to Draco’s seat. He’s almost afraid that she’s going to drool on his sweater, so he gives her a judging stare with an eyebrow raised.

She sees Draco, flushes, and walks away.

Draco can vaguely hear Hermione’s calculated voice continue: “So if any of you are ever in need of any assistance, don’t be afraid to come find me or Neville.”

He turns his attention back to Miss Class President, eyes going a little wide as she stares at him with the same look.

“Oh gods, you must think me a right git for not introducing myself to your friend! I’m so sorry, I got so caught up in thinking and talking about my responsibilities this year that I wasn’t even paying attention.” She prattles on as she moves her way over to Draco, standing behind him and Pansy, looking down at the occupied bench and the room there is to the right of the preoccupied girl.

“Pardon me.” She asks politely. Pansy doesn’t make any move other than analyzing her nails.

Hermione clears her throat.

Pansy looks up, a sigh of contempt slipping out of her mouth and a look to match it before humming boredly in Hermione’s direction.

Hermione’s face shows that she clearly doesn’t want to deal with this right now. “May I sit here?” She asks, feigning patience.

“I’m not sure…” Pansy begins, pretending to sound troubled before shooting a dangerous grin back up at the bushy haired girl. “_May_ you?”

It’s clear in Hermione’s face that she’s fighting back a scowl, before Ginny pipes up.

“Budge up, Pans, it’s only the first day of school. All you have to do is move over a bit.”

Pansy gives Ginny an unhappy look before standing up completely.

“You’re in luck, Granger.” She says with an air of fake politeness riddling her voice. “This seat just became unbelievably _stale_.” She moves over to Luna on the other side of the table and sits down, immediately asking the sweet girl about her current reading.

“Oh! I’ve just been reading my horoscope for the day! Would you care to know yours?”

Draco finds himself smiling a rare smile before being suddenly interrupted by the sight of an earnest face framed by bushy hair. She begins speaking quickly, if still in a rather calculated manner.

“Hello! My name is Hermione Granger. I’m the president of the Senior class, as I’m sure you heard me say. If there’s anything you should like to know about the school, you can always come to me for help. And this is my…” She turns her head to see her friend- _poor nervous bloke_ -staring awkwardly at the table. “Oh Neville, please sit down. Is it alright if Neville sits?” _Granger_ looks to everyone at the table.

Pansy looks like she wants to spit. “Oh sure. This table has already become sufficiently _square_, what can one more nerd do to it?”

Draco snickers and Granger sends a harsh look to Pansy before patting the space next to her at the table.

Draco watches Neville with amused interest as he swings his legs over the bench before taking a seat.

“If you would ever like to join the student council-” Granger begins again, nearly startling Draco. “-you can ask me at any time! We could always use some more help for all of the events that we have planned this year, what with all of the fundraisers and tutoring sessions-”

Draco is nearly overwhelmed just by listening to her talk, but there’s a fire in her eyes that makes Draco doubt whether she feels the same.

He feels like he’s drowning in words, afraid of looking away from the girl as she all but mutters to herself about some research she’s done on the psychology of incoming Freshmen, when Ginny suddenly chimes in.

“Draco, how was your summer?” Draco looks over to the redhead and doesn’t stop himself from giving her a thankful look for the distraction.

“I actually found it to be quite short.” Draco admits.

There’s a confused sound next to him. He turns his head to see Granger’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Short? I found that it dawdled on.” She looks around in an apparent attempt to survey the rest of the occupants at the table. Her voice gets smaller at the disagreement on everyone else’s face. “I mean, there isn’t much to do over Summer, is there? But now that we’re back at school there are so many tasks to accomplish and assignments to complete. Though it was nice to get a good chunk of reading done...”

Draco watches her face fall and turns to see Ginny staring her down with a rather judgemental look before she turns to Draco yet again.

“What did you do over summer?”

“I spent the majority of my summer down by the beach.” He straightens his back, doing his best to keep his features absolutely neutral in his thoughts of Harry. “I…” He nearly falters. “I met someone there.”

“Did you really?” Pansy’s voice and face give away her disinterest. “You ran all the way down to the beach for some… bloke?” She pauses before saying it, and her eyebrows twitch in slight worry, as if she’s nervous she assumed something she shouldn’t have.

It makes Draco smirk slyly before nodding.

“My family rented a house near the beach when we thought we were only staying the summer, so it wasn’t far. But yes, I suppose I did go to the beach for a bloke.” His heart yearns terribly at his summer memories. “But he felt special.”

Draco’s voice is far smaller than he means for it to be, and he turns back to his unappetizing lunch before he can look anyone in the eye.

He takes a breath before looking up into Pansy’s judging yet curious stare. She raises a single eyebrow. “There’s no such thing.” Something within Draco tells him he knows better than to think the sadness he hears in her tone is real.

He squints his eyes a bit at her.

“It was actually quite a romantic summer.” He begins again, keeping Pansy’s gaze before going back to his lunch in disinterest. “When we first met I got a cramp in the water and he came in to save me. All he really did was splash around. Bit of a show off, really…” Draco completely lets himself become succumbed by the memory, feeling his face warm at the thought of Harry running into the water to save him.

“Sounds like his knowledge of romance knows no ends.” Pansy’s tongue is dripping in sarcasm. Draco returns it with a very blank look.

“What was he like, Draco?” Luna has her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, gaze dreamy and looking in Draco’s direction. Somehow he knows it’s not towards him, probably not towards any one specific thought of a person, and he vaguely wonders how someone can daydream and hold conversation at the same time.

He obliges the question.

“He was really quite… sweet, if I’m being honest.” He desperately wishes he could let the conversation die, but the butterflies taking flight in his chest aren’t nearly as revolting as he thought they would be. “And he was surprisingly quite the gentleman as well.”

“How old was he?” Ginny asks, right arm crossed over her chest to play with a lock of hair on the left side of her face. She’s chewing gum now that she’s finished her lunch.

“He had just turned 18.”

“Oof.” Her face twists into dissatisfaction. “Never mind, then.”

Suddenly Pansy and Luna are laughing near wildly and even Hermione and Neville are smiling into their respective lunches and Draco is horribly aware that he’s missed a joke.

It can’t have been that funny, but still.

He gives anyone who will match eyes with him a curious and slightly bewildered (he can’t help it) stare before someone speaks up.

“Even that’s not old enough for you, Gin?” Pansy asks through some remaining chuckles.

Luna puts a hand on the table to signal Draco’s attention, gracious enough to explain to the still puzzled boy. “Ginny likes to date older men!” Her smile is brighter than the summer sun; a sun that probably burns as much as Ginny’s face seems to be burning right now.

“Yeah,” Pansy continues with an almost graceful snort, “Ones with a good pension set.”

She sniggers to herself as Ginny stands a bit and leans over Luna to smack Pansy’s shoulder.

“Oi, shove off, Pans!” Ginny is indignant. “I don’t like them that old!”

Pansy shoots her a tired look. “You’ve never dated anyone younger than Ron.” She says dryly, before her face twists into one of sly curiosity. “But 18 would be a bit older than him even, so what game are you playing at now? Going for Fred and George’s age? Or perhaps… Bill’s?”

Pansy’s snickers are absolutely devious this time around. Ginny brushes hair out of her face haughtily.

“Look, just because I was cursed with a line of older brothers doesn’t mean I should be blamed! I was only ever around older people! I just have my sights set on someone new is all.” She crosses her arms with a rather cross frown on her face as well. Draco sees her quickly eye the loony blonde next to her but decides not to make any special note of it.

Much to Draco’s utter dismay, he just can’t seem to stop himself from telling them all of the details of his summer, no matter how mundane they sound coming out of his mouth.

They continue to bombard him with questions about Harry, asking everything but his name.

“Does he have a car?”

“Can he _drive_ the car?”

“Now what kind of bloody question is that?”

“I know at least 3 people your year who own cars but don’t know how to drive them and I find it absolutely hilarious. You know, _older_ men don’t own cars without knowing how to drive them.”

“Do you love him?” Luna asks over Ginny and Pansy bickering, and Draco thinks the two girls haven’t heard Luna’s question because they just continue to tease each other. His face reddens considerably, the feeling less than pleasurable, and he makes no move to answer.

Granger shifts a bit beside Draco, as if the question is making her uncomfortable _for_ him.

Luckily, Pansy and Ginny have calmed down and are sitting with their attention on him yet again.

“Well I think this boy sounds like an utter _drag_.” Pansy is drawling yet again, tongue circling lazily around a lollipop she pulled out of her purse a few questions ago. “All this hand holding and lemonade drinking. Let me guess, you even stayed up until 10 o’clock when your bedtime is meant to be 9?”

Draco fixes another blank and disinterested stare in her direction, forcing his smirk down. He likes the bite in her; it’s entertaining and fun and gives him ample room for some snark of his own.

He sees her shift a bit, getting poised for another question and finds himself holding back a remark, allowing her to ask it. 

He immediately regrets it when the question comes out: “Didn’t even touch you did he?” 

Malfoy’s face heats up at this, the memory of Harry’s warm hand wrapped around his sensitive flesh is still far too vivid in his mind. Recalling it in the middle of a group of people makes his face absolutely _burn_ and he almost hates this merciless girl for it.

She gives a near disgusted look at Draco’s reaction, clearly mistaking his blushing face for one of purity rather that shame. “Ha. Didn’t even touch you. Sounds like a creep if you ask me.”

Draco shifts his gaze elsewhere, missing Ginny rolling her eyes at her rather rude friend.

“Did you happen to get his name?” Ginny asks, leaning in with extreme curiosity as she smacks her gum in a way that Draco finds abhorrent.

“Yes. It was Harry Potter.”

Ginny’s face blanches just when Draco thought the redhead’s complexion couldn’t get any paler. He hears a loud huff of disbelief and looks over to Pansy who is covering her mouth, looking as if her body has betrayed her for letting the sound come out before quickly recovering and putting the lollipop back in her mouth. Luna’s eyes are twinkling with something that Draco can only describe as mischief.

Even Granger is giving him a look now, having paid barely any attention throughout the whole conversation (_Interrogation, more like._). The look on her face is nothing less than pity and Draco feels slight offense bubbling up inside of him.

He finally turns his gaze to Neville, whose eyes have gone wide and are shifting around to everyone’s faces much like Draco’s are, but Draco can tell that his looks are more in bewilderment; almost as if he’s silently wondering if anyone is going to tell the ‘poor bloke’, that happens to be Draco in this instance.

He gets that feeling again; that he’s being left out of some very crucial background information that would make the punchline suddenly become clear. But something tells him that he’s not going to be let in on any new information any time soon.

Pansy’s face turns absolutely _wicked_ and Draco knows in that moment that he wants to be Pansy’s good friend so that he never has to be on the receiving end of the look again.

“I take it all back. With a name like that, this boy must be absolutely _golden_. Just perfect.” She’s standing up from the table as she says this, grabbing her purse and her lunch tray. “Who knows? Maybe he’s even been _chosen_ for you.” She snickers in a way that Draco feels is evil before she taps her fingernails in unnerving clicks on her lunch tray. Draco feels it’s some sort of round-up call.

“C’mon girls.”

She begins to saunter away, Ginny and Luna getting up and giving their respective goodbyes to the three still left before they follow Pansy to the bin and then back into the school building.

To say Draco is confused is the understatement of the century. He turns his attention over to the _beloved_ Student Body President, who is still giving him that irritatingly pitying glance before looking to Neville and seeing his face far less worried and nervous and more curious than anything else.

Before Draco can utter a single word, Granger is collecting her things and blurting out offers and suggestions a mile a minute.

“Do you need any help maneuvering around campus, Draco? I know all of the halls and stairways can be quite confusing the first time around, especially on the first day when the seniors pull their silly little prank. Neville informed me that he helped you among others this morning, and we can help you again if you’d like. Let’s go find all of your classes before the next period starts.”

And with that, she’s standing up, picking up her possessions, and rushing purposefully to put her tray away before showing Draco the entire school, by the sounds of it.

Draco makes eye contact with Neville, who merely shrugs in response before grabbing his things and walking silently by Draco’s side as they follow Granger’s lead.

~*~

The T-Birds + Blaise are lounging around on their footie stadium bleachers, a handful of other students also strewn about the metal benches that are heating up under the sun. The footie team isn’t out right now though; only track and field is racing around and throwing their sticks and balls and whatevers-else.

It’s all rather good material for a laugh, but the boys’ favorite is the weird large hurdle that sends the runners right into a puddle of water. It confuses the fuck out of them, but they like to wolf whistle or catcall down to the specific guy going over it. More often than not whoever it is face plants in the water, making their laughter louder than their catcalls had been.

Ron is sitting sideways on the second highest bleacher, back against the railing and arm leaning on it while his legs are propped up on the bench. He’s drinking a jar of shandy that he stole this morning from Fred and George before he left the house.

Seamus is eating the lunch that his mother made him this morning while sharing bites of it with Dean, leaning against Dean’s chest for support as he sits in between the boy’s legs. Blaise and Harry are sitting on the highest bench and leaning up against the back railing, legs stretched out as they eye the track players up and down and talk about the upperclassmen.

“Hey,” Blaise hits Harry’s chest with his hand to get his attention away from a particularly muscled guy. “You said you didn’t spot any cute guys or girls this morning, but I saw a new bloke that was _particularly_ stunning, if you know what I mean.”

Blaise gives Harry that flirty and dangerous look that he gives most people he’s trying to hook up with. Harry’s been on the receiving end of this look multiple times, even gave in to it once or twice, but he still doesn’t know what to do with himself when it’s aimed at him. Before he can even respond, Dean is cutting in with interest.

“Who was it, Blaise?” He plays with the collar of his boyfriend’s jacket, probably to keep Seamus from thinking he’s thinking too extensively about this “stunning” new guy.

“Didn’t quite catch his name, but I saw him heading out of homeroom with Luna as I was going in for Binns’ class.” He leans back a bit more, casually putting his arm on the railing behind Harry’s head. He’s done this so many times he almost doesn’t think about it. The only reason he reacts in any way is because of the way Ron _always_ reacts when Blaise does this: with a start and a scramble to sit up, attempting to get a good view of where the hand could go next so that he can put a stop to it.

“He was gorgeous though.” Blaise continues, tapping his booted foot on the metal bench. “Legs that went on forever and platinum blond hair done so perfectly I would have given anything to muss it up.”

At the description, Harry feels his heart fall. His mind whirls with the memories of summer, his own gorgeous, stunning boy by his side as they romped around on the beach. Long legs just perfect for keeping up with Harry’s sometimes too excited strides and perfectly kept, soft, blond hair that made Harry go crazy any time he got to run his hands through it.

But he doesn’t entertain the thought that his boy and the one Blaise is describing could be the same; not even for a second. He’s too lost in his thoughts to think about anything beyond making out with the boy-

“_I_ wanna hear what Harry did down at the beach.” Seamus starts, sitting up from his position on Dean and scooting closer to Harry.

All the boys are at attention now, sitting up more and looking to Harry, agreeing with mentions of “Yeah” and “Why haven’t you told us yet?” and “I wanna hear all of it!”.

Harry shrugs nonchalantly, doing a piss poor job of not looking absolutely smug and he definitely knows it.

“It was nothing.” He says like it was _definitely_ something. The boys catch on.

“I’m sure it was a _whole lot_ of nothing, huh Harry?” Ron winks and nudges Harry’s leg a bit with his own boot. Harry can’t help but chuckle at the words, knowing full well that Hermione would threaten their deaths for talking about others this way; like something to conquer rather than someone to love.

But the summer didn’t feel that way to Harry. Draco wasn’t a thing for him to conquer. In fact, it rather felt like Harry was the one being conquered half the time, what with all of the prissy demands that Harry absolutely adored. Draco would never allow himself to be “conquered” because Harry wasn’t the one doing the choosing like he usually did. His whirling summer romance wasn’t something Harry picked out because his partner was the one who picked _him_. It made Harry laugh a bit as he thought it over one night in his room. He had been chosen.

Funny to think the nickname “Chosen One” suddenly has another meaning to it.

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by Blaise, who knocks himself into Harry to get him to come to.

“C’mon, mate.” Blaise has a glint in his eye. “Tell us all about the beach. You haven’t been able to stop smiling like a damn loony-bird all morning, I’m sure you met someone.”

“ Yeah, you’re right… I did meet a guy.” Harry concedes, nodding his head and leaning back a bit more to keep his cool and casual front going.

“Well bloody hell, mate!” Ron perks up even more, pushing himself to sit up. “You’ve gotta tell us more than that!”

“Oh come on, you lot don’t want to hear all the horny details, now do you?” He knows his smirk reveals he’s up to no good as he riles all of his friends up.

And they’re definitely proper riled as they begin shouting at him, affirming that “of fucking course” they want to hear “_every little detail_” of what happened and “Are you fucking serious mate, we want to hear every word!”

Harry puts his hands up in defeat as they’ve all gotten closer in their excitement.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you!”

And now that he’s here, he doesn’t quite know where to start. He knows they want something lascivious; something raunchy that can prove he’s the one they should be following the example of. But for the life of him he doesn’t know what to say. He thinks about hyping it up, but some part of him holds him back. In his head, Harry hears a voice telling him off for even _thinking_ of exaggerating the story and Harry thinks it’s Draco’s voice. The voice isn’t saying anything specific, just blabbering in a reprimanding tone, but it keeps Harry in check all the same.

Well… nearly.

His resolve breaks when he looks at the eyes of his friends, all hungry for a good story. And he’s the damn Golden Boy of the school, the Chosen One by _everyone_. It’s his job to put on a good show.

“Well, I mean, I first saw him in the water. It looked like he had a cramp, so of course I had to go in and save him.”

“Always the bloody savior.” Blaise mutters, and it’s good natured, but Ron still shoots daggers at the boy for his outburst.

“Bet he was pretty grateful for that, huh Harry?” Seamus is leaning in closer now, grinning wickedly. “How far did you two go, eh?”

A tiny voice inside of Harry tells him to respect Draco’s honor. It’s small enough to go unheard.

“He let me take him bowling on the second day and I was able to snag the lane at the far wall.” All of the boys make knowing sounds, hitting Harry a bit in implication.

“The one with the light out, eh?” Dean is nearly chuckling.

“Yeah, he let me press him up against the far wall and we uh… you know.” He winks to keep his confidence in tact, but something about the words feel sour and dirty on his tongue. It’s like he’s just licked the ground.

His friends’ smiles and hits egg him on though, and take any doubt out of his head yet again.

“He let you, huh? Didn’t put up a fight?” Ron takes a swig of his shandy, seeming a little off and that’s where Harry nearly draws the line. He sees red, and it’s not just his friend’s hair, and he nearly wants to go off on the boy.

_What the hell does he think he’s playing at? I’m not a bloody monster!_

But then Blaise is graciously patting Harry’s shoulder to get his attention, asking more questions about any other activities that happened or if he could even describe the boy.

Harry’s still a little on edge, and he describes him very briefly with platinum hair and fair features before he adjusts his jacket in mild discomfort.

“Think maybe he has a friend he could hook Ron up with?” Seamus asks before getting lightly kicked in the shoulder by Ron. Ron’s pouting at the insinuation, but Seamus is all laughter.

_ _“How’d it end, Harry? Did he cling to you like everyone else?” Dean is smiling, but it doesn’t seem as dirty as everyone else’s. Harry nearly lets out a sigh at the question, thinking about the answer._ _

_ _“Well, uh… the nights started getting colder and as the summer was ending I told him that uh… that we could still be friends.”_ _

Harry’s heart yearns _hard_ and all of the guys, except for Dean, give him an astonished look. Harry thinks it’s probably at the heartfelt way he speaks the words. He regrets saying them at all, worried that his friends are going to think he’s gone soft.

_ _He doesn’t fully know what to do, so he just stands up and runs his hand along the sides of his head to make sure his hair is still smooth._ _

_ _“Well, as exciting as you lot are, I’ve got to get to class. I’ve got Snape next.” As if that last sentence says it all, Harry steps over Ron’s legs and heads down the bleachers, sauntering away towards the school. __

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ __ _

It isn’t until a week into school that Blaise spots him.

_ _Blaise sees him standing further down the hall, talking to Hermione Granger. His nervous nature is no longer there, his back up straight and head tilted back a bit in a strong laugh. Blaise desperately wants to know what’s so funny as he heads down the hall, hands in his jean pockets and skirting out of the way of people walking in the same direction._ _

_ _Hermione has a single hand over her mouth in a silent giggle until a new boy approaches. It’s the new kid, the platinum blond with the long legs that Blaise sees nearly every morning after Homeroom. He’s still gorgeous, dressed impeccably every day in a way that Blaise can truly appreciate. He vaguely wonders about the boy and lets himself get lost just enough to not take notice when Hermione leaves the two boys to be alone._ _

_ _She’s walking down the hallway now, bushy curls swaying behind her in her confident strides as she looks down at an open binder. She accidentally bumps into Blaise, touching his arm gingerly in apology._ _

_ _“Pardon me, Blaise.” She shoots him a sweet and friendly smile before turning to head back down the hall. His mind races a bit before he grabs her arm to stop her._ _

_ _“Hey, Hermione, who’s the new boy?”_ _

_ _She looks up in surprise before looking back down the hall at the blond._ _

_ _“Oh! That’s Draco Malfoy. He’s our year.”_ _

_ _Blaise nods a bit in thought._ _

_ _“Gotten him to join Student Council yet?” He raises a dark eyebrow at her and chuckles at the faint blush showing up on her tanned skin. He’s never done anything more than vaguely flirt with Hermione, he sees her as more a sister than anything else, but thinks it’s cute to see the little blush that show up on her cheeks._ _

_ _“Not yet, but you know we can always use the help. I’ll see you later, Blaise.” Her voice is hurried in a way he knows means it’s time to let her go, so he gives her a nod and accepts the fact that he’ll have to get more information on his own._ _

He continues his mission down the hall, this time watching the two boys intently as the blond gives his boy -_no… not mine_\- sly smirks that make the cutest blush show up on his lightly stubbled face and _goddamnit, that’s my job_.

_ _He stops right next to them and relishes in the flustered look that graces that handsome, lightly stubbled face._ _

_ _“B-Blaise?”_ _

_ _The tall, dark boy smirks, lifting his chin and glancing down at the slightly shorter boy with a knowing smile._ _

_ _“Hello Neville. You’re looking well.”_ _

_ _Neville’s face colors even more as he begins to pick at the end of his sleeve._ _

_ _“Uh, thank you.” Blaise smirks devilishly at Neville, completely forgetting about the blond with them until someone clears their throat._ _

_ _Blaise lets his gaze slide over to the shorter blond, who gives him a pointed look._ _

“Pardon me, it appears as though I haven’t introduced myself.” Blaise grabs the boy’s -_Draco’s_\- hand and kisses the back of it to buy himself time as he wonders whether or not he should let on that he already knows the boy’s name. He decides to uphold his mysterious reputation. “The name is Blaise Zabini. You must be Draco Malfoy, yes?”

_ _Draco doesn’t react the way most do; he gives Blaise a rather unconvinced look before taking his hand back slowly. “Yes. Charmed, I’m sure.”_ _

_ _He sounds extremely disinterested before he turns to Neville._ _

_ _“A friend of yours, I take it?” Neville’s face reddens at Draco’s question._ _

_ _“Oh, I-uh, yes? Uhm, yeah-” Neville is stuttering something awful and Blaise honestly doesn’t know which he finds more charming: the confidence or the fumbling. Blaise settles on the idea that his ability to switch between both seamlessly is what hits him the hardest._ _

_ _Neville blinks and shakes his head a bit._ _

_ _“Blaise! This is Draco-” He’s swishing his arms around in fumbled gestures between the two boys. “Draco, this is Blaise and- you already knew this. You said this already. Okay.”_ _

_ _Neville scratches the back of his head, letting the muscles in his arm flex. Blaise tries his best not to get distracted._ _

_ _Neville is the one clearing his throat this time, shaking out his hands for some reason before he speaks. “Well! I’m going to go.”_ _

“Oh, Neville I was hoping I could talk to you.” Blaise touches the boy’s shoulder lightly, doing his best to flirt in a way that the shaking boy would pick up on _Good lord he really is shaking._

_ _“Funnily enough, I was hoping to talk to you, too.” Draco speaks up, placing his own hand delicately on Neville’s elbow and if Neville’s face gets any more red, it’s going to boil him._ _

_ _And then he’s laughing nervously, looking between both boys and then where both hands are touching him and Blaise almost feels bad for making the boy so flustered._ _

_ _“Talk to each other!” Neville all but shouts, wincing afterwards. It’s hard for Blaise to contain his shock._ _

_ _“Wha-?” He begins to ask, fully aware of how wide his eyes are._ _

_ _“I’ve got to go. I have Snape. Ha!” He’s just about to run away when Blaise catches his arm again, holding him still and admiring his dark skin against the boy’s lighter arm._ _

_ _“After school, yeah?” Blaise asks, watching hungrily as Neville swallows and nods._ _

_ _“Lunch today, Neville?” Draco asks from behind Blaise, and he turns to see the blond boy smirking and looks back to Neville who is nodding with a small smile on his face._ _

_ _And with that, he’s pulling away and bounding up the stairs._ _

_ _Blaise turns back to Draco and can’t help his heart stop a bit at the surveying and judging look._ _

_ _“So, how do you know my name?”_ _

_ _“I know a lot of things around this school.”_ _

_ _“Right.” Draco looks entirely unconvinced. “So Granger told you?”_ _

Blaise snorts at the use of Hermione’s last name. _So he’s met Pansy then…_

“Yes, _Granger_ told me.” There’s a beat of silence in the conversation, and it’s obvious that Draco is not going to give Blaise the satisfaction of appearing even the slightest bit interested. He decides to give his best disarming smirk, figuring now is as good a time as any to flirt. He eyes Draco up and down a bit. “You’re quite handsome, you know.”

_ _“Yes, I do know.” Blaise watches Draco cross his thin arms._ _

_ _Blaise thinks about them in comparison to Neville’s and realizes he likes the bulky boy better. As enticing as Draco is, all thin features and sharp edges with piercing stares and quick wit, Blaise quickly comes to the conclusion that the two of them are far too similar. It’d be a match of wit and wry smiles and Blaise isn’t sure that’s quite what he wants._ _

_ _Doesn’t mean he can’t give Draco appraising looks and flirty smirks. He does it to even his best of friends. People are beautiful, and he’s hungry to see the different ways one can blush._ _

_ _So far he hasn’t gotten any favorable reaction out of the blond._ _

_ _Draco arches a delicate eyebrow upward in question. “Were you expecting a compliment in return?”_ _

_ _Blaise chuckles at the snark. He thinks him and Pansy must get along quite well. Probably in-between scathing remarks._ _

_ _“Met Pansy Parkinson, have you?”_ _

_ _Draco’s expression changes to one of slight surprise. “I have. She’s been quite a good friend to me. How do you know her?”_ _

_ _Blaise appreciates the appraising look he gets. It’s only been a week and already this boy looks like he’s concerned for Pansy’s honor._ _

_How does that woman do it…_

_ _“She’s one of my best friends.” He gives an amused grin upon seeing Draco’s face twist in confusion._ _

_ _“Then how come I’m only meeting you now?”_ _

_ _Blaise shrugs. “I like to keep a low profile the first week of school.” He shifts to his other hip nonchalantly. “Scope out the new scene.”_ _

_ _Draco looks unimpressed again._ _

_ _“Right. Well, if you truly are one of Pansy’s best friends then perhaps I’ll see you around, but for now I’m afraid I have to bid you goodbye.”_ _

_ _And with that, Draco turns on his heels to head into a nearby classroom, leaving a chuckling Blaise behind him._ _

_ _~*~_ _

_ _Blaise is leaning against the wall of the side entrance to the school, knowing full well that Neville will try his best to rush home and pretend like he didn’t tell Blaise he’d talk to him when school got out. A part of him doesn’t particularly blame Neville; he doesn’t exactly give the boy a break when he’s with him. Another part of him blames Neville for that as well; Neville needs to stop being so damn adorable when he’s flustered and blushing._ _

_ _Students of all years are filing out of the door, some taking notice of him and others making a point not to. Blaise takes no notice of any of the looks he gets, whether they be judging or otherwise. He blocks out any whispers he knows are aimed in his direction._ _

_ _He’s so busy paying no mind that he almost misses Neville._ _

_ _He reaches a long arm out, taking firm hold of Neville’s thick arm and tugging him a little bit out of the way. The squeak that comes from him makes Blaise chuckle._ _

_ _“Blaise!” Neville’s eyes are wide, darting down to Blaise’s hand around his arm before going back up. “H-hi there. S-still wanted to talk, then?”_ _

_ _Blaise’s grin gets wider as he nods. “Well, now that you mention it…”_ _

_ _They begin to walk, heading towards the outskirts of campus where people rarely linger. They do so in silence, the late afternoon sun just barely peeking out of the clouds and making Neville’s eyes sparkle as he admires the garden work around the school._ _

_ _“So, how have you been?” Blaise asks in a way he deems is anything but cool._ _

_ _Neville starts. “Oh! Uh, I’m fine!” He gives a bit of a nervous chuckle that makes Blaise question him. “I mean, I’m a lot better than I was when I left, you know?”_ _

_ _Blaise nods and lets it stay there. He doesn’t really want to get into that now, not with the boy so nervous and this being the first time they’ve spoken in nearly a year._ _

_ _Doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a little greedy though, responding with a deep and casual “That’s good to hear, love.” that makes the boy’s face bloom pink._ _

_ _Neville clears his throat. “So how has your first week been?”_ _

_ _“Oh, you know…” Blaise drags the last syllable out a bit so that Neville looks over at him. “...as busy as always.” He gives what he believes is a rather playful wink, and if the way Neville seems to lose his breath is anything to go by, then he’s correct in his assumptions._ _

_ _Neville looks away quickly._ _

_ _“I’m sure!” Neville is laughing nervously again, but it’s still so charming that Blaise could melt. “Being the most-”_ _

_ _Neville stops abruptly, even slowing in his steps until he’s practically stopped. Blaise can’t help the sly grin on his face. He stops a bit ahead of his friend and turns around._ _

_ _Neville clears his throat again before Blaise can say a word. “Hey, uhm, have you seen Harry around?”_ _

_ _“I’ve had lunch with him just about every day.”_ _

_ _“Right, well, when you see him next can you tell him to uh… come talk to me?”_ _

_ _Blaise gives the boy a questioning glance, taking in the light fidgeting but determined expression._ _

_ _“Is Neville Longbottom going to go after the ‘Golden Boy’ of Hogwarts?” Blaise waggles his eyebrows a bit and smiles at the light blush that spreads over Neville’s cheeks, watching his eyes go a bit wider._ _

_ _“No! No, no no, of course not!” Blaise smiles a bit more at the nervous chuckle that Neville gives. It’s a genuine smile. “I just… Uhm… Draco…”_ _

_ _Blaise’s smile falls. This might confirm something Blaise has been curious about._ _

“Neville…” He makes sure the boy is looking him in the eye before he continues. “Is… _Draco_ the one that Harry spent the summer with?”

_ _Neville’s eyes search Blaise’s face a bit before nodding. “He told us the whole story during lunch the first day of school. Pansy won’t let me tell him and he… he makes me kind of nervous when we’re alone... like-” He cuts himself off again, clearing his throat in a way that makes Blaise want to offer him water. “I just want to talk to Harry before they see each other.”_ _

_ _Blaise doesn’t attempt to hide his confusion._ _

_ _“Concerned about something?” He inquires, and receives a pointed look in return._ _

_ _“Yes. I know you lot. You’re all stubborn and completely incorrigible when you’re together. You put your reputation before your own feelings, let alone anyone else’s.” Neville sounds exasperated as he speaks. “I’ve heard Draco talk about Harry and he sounds so... genuinely happy. I don’t want him to lose that because Harry is around your group and thinks he needs to protect himself for some reason.”_ _

_ _Blaise is nearly amazed at the confidence that came over Neville, before he feels something warm and uncomfortable boiling in his chest._ _

_ _“Taken a liking to someone, have you?” He fears there’s a bit of poison behind his words. Neville’s eyebrows knit a bit in confusion._ _

_ _“Draco is very nice to me. And he listens when I talk about plants.” Neville says it like it’s all there needs to be said._ _

“_I_ listen when you talk about plants.” Blaise’s voice is more defensive than he wants it. “Why don’t you like me?”

_ _“Who says I don’t like you?” It’s out of Neville’s mouth before either of them can really compute it. Blaise’s eyes widen before his mouth melts into a smirk. Neville’s eyes widen too, but his face fills out in red._ _

_ _Blaise decides to cut his friend a break._ _

_ _“I’ll remember to tell Harry to talk to you the next time I see him.”_ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _Every year, about a month into school, Hogwarts holds a pep rally for their annual major footie match. It’s a major event, held at night with a bonfire and cheerleaders and a bunch of ridiculous teenagers yelling and causing a ruckus, even with all of the staff watching. It’s the only time anyone would ever think about being so rowdy and rambunctious in McGonagall’s presence, but luckily for the students, Principal Dumbledore seems to greatly enjoy the energy and fun and overall irresponsibility._ _

The footie team is running around and doing some strange chant and the cheerleaders are even more irritating than the chant if _at all_ possible and Draco sincerely wishes he hadn’t come.

But then he sees Neville and he’s definitely glad he did because the track runner’s legs look _far_ better in those red shorts than they do in baggy jeans.

_ _Draco walks up to him, watching as Neville avoids a plethora of advances before finally being saved by Ginny, wearing a similar uniform to Neville’s with a tight white t-shirt and red shorts. He watches Neville’s face immediately relax and smile and sees Ginny’s face smile in return and basks in the fact that his presence makes Neville’s face blush. Maybe he really does have the same problem that Blaise seems to have?_ _

In the last few weeks, Draco has become rather acquainted with Blaise. The boy made it a point to spend more time at their table during lunch than away, to the point where he spent at _least_ 4 out of 5 days with the group. Draco didn’t even pretend not to notice the pleading look that Neville would give him whenever Blaise showed up during the hour. Blaise always just shrugged, his smile fading as the weeks went on, leading to whispers by the last few days.

_ _But Blaise still never stopped saying or doing whatever he could to make Neville blush something awful. And Draco blames Blaise for his own current addiction to the reaction._ _

_ _“Hello Neville. Ginny.” Draco smiles at the two of them, admiring the friendly smiles he receives in return._ _

_ _Suddenly, Ginny’s eyes are wide. “Luna!” She calls, and Draco sees a flash of bright blonde and vibrant color pass behind him. Ginny reaches a hand out to Draco’s shoulder as she passes by him to leave. “Excuse me, boys.”_ _

_ _Then off she runs, chasing Luna down on her way to Pansy. Draco watches as a pink jacket is shoved in Ginny’s face and the girl pulls it on with a roll of her eyes._ _

_ _Draco turns his attention back to the flushed track star as he straightens out his t-shirt a bit._ _

_ _“Honored to have a whole rally just for you?” Draco quips and smiles lightly at the guffaw that Neville lets out. It’s anything but graceful and Draco almost doesn’t hate the way his heart tugs at the sound. If only it didn’t remind him of-_ _

_No._ It’s been nearly a month, he really needs to get over _Harry Potter_.

_ _He quickly returns to the conversation he’s meant to be having with Neville._ _

“Honestly, this rally isn’t even for _us_.” Neville says, gesturing offhandedly to a rather large group of people wearing the same uniform as Neville and Ginny. They were all rather closely huddled to the fire, probably to achieve some kind of warmth that their uniforms didn’t allow. “Track is barely getting started this time around and we don’t have meets until later in the year. This is just for the football team, really. They just like more people to rally around.”

_ _Neville almost seems huffy. Draco smirks at the sound._ _

_ _“Well, while it’s all rather…” Draco trails off to watch a cheerleader squeal as she’s being chased around by a football player. “...abysmal… perhaps it will give you comfort to know that I’m only here for you and your team.”_ _

_ _Neville’s face blushes and it’s almost hard to tell in the dark._ _

“So…” Draco begins, looking around in search of dark bushy hair. “Still managing the track team _and_ Granger’s student council?”

_ _Neville chuckles in a strange and amused tone that Draco hasn’t heard from him before._ _

“It’s not _her_ student council, it’s everyone’s. That’s why it’s called student council.” Neville states in the most matter of fact tone that Draco can imagine coming from the boy. “And I’m still not sure why you keep calling her that.”

_ _Draco is nearly taken aback, though he’d be hard pressed to show it. He ignores his own brief sputtering._ _

_ _“She seems like the kind to enjoy such a formal greeting.” Draco doesn’t know what else to say. Neville’s almost sympathetic laughter certainly isn’t helping._ _

“You clearly don’t know Hermione as well as you think you do.” He’s shaking his head in a way that makes Draco a bit defensive. “She’s the student body president. It’s her goal to be on a close status with everyone so that they all feel like they can come to her with any problem. She enjoys solving problems. She _wants_ people to feel familiar with her enough to call her Hermione.”

_ _Draco feels his face redden and he doesn’t know what to do but cross his arms in front of him. He feels like a huffy child, and figures he probably looks it, because Neville is full on laughing now._ _

_ _Draco wants to say something but then a voice is roaring and he’s pretty sure it’s Principal Dumbledore talking about how they’re going to kill the other students with… kindness? And then Draco decides this whole thing is ridiculous and there’s an arm grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him over to Pansy and Ginny and Blaise._ _

_ _Pansy is talking to Ginny, smirk and all on her face, and Draco doesn’t think anything of it. He tries to keep not thinking anything of it as Blaise’s face gets irritated and… worried? Draco watches Blaise tug on Pansy’s shoulder and whisper hurriedly to her. Pansy pushes Blaise off and the boy’s face is covered in concern now and Draco really wants to know what’s going on but doesn’t get to before Luna is grabbing his attention._ _

_ _“Aren’t rallies fun? I wish they wouldn’t talk about killing so much. I rather dislike the sad faces on the other team when we beat them, but I do like the faces on our team when we win!” Her hand is softly tugging him and he can never find himself to be irritated with her, even when she’s pulling his cashmere. “The energy is always so unifying!”_ _

_ _“Hi again, Draco. Rally treating you alright?” Ginny’s giving him a careful look as she takes a swig of something that he assumes is alcohol. Draco grimaces as he remembers where he is: a school rally._ _

_ _He lets his grimace tell all, and rightly assumes it does as Ginny all but guffaws._ _

_ _“Oh, Draco,” Comes Pansy’s voice, lilting a little more than usual. He changes his focus. “I have a surprise for you. I was hoping you’d get it earlier, but now seems like as good a time as any.”_ _

_ _There’s something in her eye; something familiar, perhaps from that first day of school, during lunch. The look he never wanted to be on the other end of again._ _

_ _He tries to hide any nerves._ _

_ _“I’m sure it’ll be just lovely. Where is it, exactly?”_ _

_ _Pansy’s smirk doesn’t get any less frightening. “Oh, we have to walk to it. Follow me.” She places a long-nailed hand on his shoulder as she passes him and something in his mind tells him he shouldn’t go._ _

_ _Luna bounces next to him, calming his nerves as he follows the bob hairdo._ _

_ _~*~_ _

_ _Harry is standing near all of the cars parked in the dirt, far enough away from the rally to not be overly irritated by the loud noises. They can just hear the cheerleaders calls and the random yelling and woop-ing and that’s about it. Harry is glad to be away from the ruckus; watching it just makes him sad._ _

_ _He’s always wanted to join some kind of sport but when he and Ron decided their first year to be cool, they decided this was the way. Fred and George had pointed them in the direction of the cool kids and Ron and Harry followed their lead, much to the amusement of the twins. The twins themselves had been major track stars when they were still attending Hogwarts, and they knew that both Ron and Harry were highly energetic boys probably just itching to do some kind of physical activity. However, upon getting their first look at a group of greasers, the boys vowed to be just like them. The twins ruffled the two younger boys’ hai, giving them shit for something they claimed to be “completely daft”._ _

_ _So Harry usually chooses to avoid these little events, wanting not to think about what he could have if he had just joined the team instead of worrying about being “cool”. But he usually ends up going to them anyway, because his friends seem to thoroughly enjoy them, if their laughing and dancing is anything to go by._ _

_ _Dean and Seamus are dancing around with each other, waving their arms about in an attempt to follow the cheerleaders that they can barely see from their spot by the cars. They’re laughing and chanting mock versions of the real cheers and Harry is laughing quietly as he shakes his head, leaning against a car that’s not his own. Remus took the car out because him and Sirius had been invited to a party and Remus has never trusted a drunken Sirius on a motorcycle, even if said drunken man wasn’t the one driving it._ _

_ _That’s when they hear the roaring of a car coming towards them. All three boys look up towards the source of the noise. Harry wonders through his harsh stare who could possibly be pulling up to the rally at this time. As he analyzes the car, he realizes it’s one he’s never seen before. It’s a white Ford Anglia; at least, Harry thinks it’s white. In the dim lighting, Harry can just barely see streaks, but it looks like the streaks that are left on a car when it only has primer on it. Harry peers past the single headlight (one of them is out) to try and make out who the driver is._ _

_ _He can’t hold back the laugh when he sees the familiar head of red hair._ _

_ _The roar sputters out rather unceremoniously as Ron stops the car and opens the door to step out. His chest is puffed out like a young lion who just grew it’s full mane. Harry looks over to Dean and Seamus who are gaping at the car while appearing to try not to laugh._ _

_ _Harry doesn’t hold it in._ _

_ _“So…” Harry begins, giving the car his best serious and appraising look. “They figured out how to attach an engine to a piece of scrap metal, did they?”_ _

_ _Dean and Seamus roar with laughter and Harry’s gaze slides over to Ron’s face. He looks unamused and extremely determined._ _

“You lot just wait until I get it painted. Charlie says there’s still a bit of work to be done on the engine as well, but once it’s all finished, I think it’ll be fucking _perfect_ for racing!”

“_Racing_?” Seamus’ voice perks up, laughter still extremely evident in his voice as he walks closer to the car. “Oi, mate, how fast does this thing even go anyway, 5? 10?”

_ _Him and Dean are laughing rather uncontrollably now and Ron is just scowling. He pats the car a bit, leaving Harry shocked that it didn’t fall apart under his touch._ _

Ron is still talking about his car, raving in a near frantic manner about how he’s going to help Charlie fix the car up to be even _better_ than Cormac McLaggen’s and Harry’s mind is wandering. In fact, he’s so far into his mind that it takes him a second to register the fact that someone is calling his name.

_ _“Oh, Harry~...” It’s a sing song voice that Harry typically chooses to avoid, but he decides to play nice. He spins around to look Pansy in the eye._ _

_ _“Hello Pansy.” He begins, keeping any animosity out of his voice. “Good to see you.” The last sentence is a little awkward but not too much that he thinks she would notice._ _

_ _Hopeful thinking, obviously._ _

_ _“Wow, working on our acting, are we? I almost believed that for a second.” Pansy’s laughter is severe. Harry wishes for someone else to save him._ _

_ _“What do you want, Pansy?” Ron asks, recognizable malice in his voice._ _

“Oh, I think that question would be better aimed at our Golden Boy here…” Her voice sounds too nonchalant for Harry to relax. “What do _you_ want, Harry? What would you like?”

_ _Her right hand is lightly placed on the right side of her head and she’s tapping a long fingernail on her cheekbone in question. Then her finger is motioning for something behind her to come forward, and as she moves out of the way, Harry watches Ginny and Luna lightly guide a rather confused looking figure forward._ _

_ _Harry’s heart drops at the sight of neat, platinum blond hair atop a lithe, pale figure._ _

_No, is it…?_

“Draco!” His voice is absolutely _shaking_ with excitement, a bubbling surprise rising up through his chest and into his throat.

_ _“Harry?” Draco looks shocked and, Harry would like to say, very excited to see him. He watches Draco eye him up and down, taking in his figure as his smile gets wider._ _

_ _“I thought you were heading back to France?” He asks, unaware of his feet bringing him closer and closer to the boy._ _

_ _“Yes, well, my father’s work ended up deciding he was of more use here, so we bought a house and stayed!” Draco’s smile is so wide and bright and Harry is sure that he’s melting to his spot._ _

It feels like there are little pinpricks in his stomach and his knees and there’s absolutely _nothing_ in this world he wants more than to gather this boy up in his arms and kiss him into oblivion. He can’t believe it; the object of his affection during the summer is _here_. Every _day_ Harry has daydreamed about seeing the boy walk through their halls and now he’s _here_, right in front of him! So close, he could reach out and touch his soft hair and pinch his ear a little bit and wrap his hand around the back of his neck and _pull him in_ and…

Someone behind him clears their throat _very_ loudly.

_ _And suddenly… Harry is sent spinning back to his spot; back to his present reality. He’s not on the beach, the sun isn’t setting, there’s no salty breeze, there’s no soft material underneath his calloused hands just waiting to be explored…_ _

_ _No, instead it’s nighttime, and he’s at a school rally with the sour smell of smoke in the air coming from someone’s cigarette mixing with the choking smoke of the bonfire and there are shrieks coming from somewhere Harry wishes was a bit farther away because even in the awkward silence of this moment, everything is too fucking loud. And the air suddenly gets 5 degrees colder because he looks over his right shoulder to see Ron right up on his side, giving him a disapproving look. He whips his head to his left and sees Dean and Seamus, staring curiously and with immense judgement. And suddenly, Harry feels the absolutely oppressive feeling that everyone around him is demanding an explanation from him; as if every action he does has to be explained._ _

No one asks for an explanation when he’s coming out from under the bleachers with another guy or girl...

_ _He tries to cough the feeling out of his throat. It’s become extremely unpleasant._ _

_ _“Nice. That’s… that’s cool.” Harry schools his expression back into one of nonchalance and wills himself to ignore the poisonous smirk that spreads across Pansy’s face in his peripheral vision. The air around him caused by his friends has become less suffocating, but only just. He can feel that they approve of his reaction._ _

_ _Draco’s face contorts into one of confusion. “How have you been, Harry?”_ _

_ _ Harry’s chest has been gripped by his nerves. He’s desperately hoping no one will see through his facade._ _

_ _“Oh, you know… rockin’ and rollin’ and… whatnot.” It’s incredibly unconvincing, even to his own ears, and he can see in Draco’s face that the answer is anything but sufficient._ _

“.... what? What in the world does that even _mean_, you insufferable prick?”

_ _Harry is taken aback by the name, and even more taken aback by how his initial reaction is to hang his head in slight shame. He plays it off as if he’s just fixing his hair. It’s an added bonus that he doesn’t have to look into Draco’s eyes after what he said._ _

_ _“Harry?” Draco reprimands more than asks, and Harry can already see the look on his face without having to look up. He silently and quickly gathers his courage before whipping his head up, almost immediately regretting it. If he isn’t mistaken, he thinks he sees the start of tears in the boy’s eyes. He turns his head to the sky and shifts his positioning, sitting in his other hip._ _

_ _“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”_ _

_ _He can feel the heat of Draco’s anger and wants to kiss it away so badly. He tries his best to keep his eyes on the stars in the cold night sky. He glances down to look into Draco’s eyes for a second and can feel a knife in his heart when he gets a look at him._ _

_Shite…_

“Gods, get _off_ it you git. What’s happened to you?”

_ _Harry feels like he’s about to have a heart attack as he looks anywhere but at Draco all while still trying to keep his cool demeanor._ _

_ _“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter w-with you?” He has to clear his throat. _ _

_Goddamnit, I’m gonna get shite with the guys for that._

_ _He’s trying to keep his cool by making it look like he’s just fixing his hair and popping his collar, but he’s become painfully aware that he’s probably just messing up his ducktail and wearing down the leather on his jacket. His heart is on the verge of failure with how fast it’s beating as he spews all of this shit out on this boy that he spent an incredible summer with and to make it worse, he can’t even look the bloody boy in the eye._ _

_ _“I know you’re new and all,” Harry continues, hardly thinking anymore. “but I’m the Chosen One around here. Everyone wants a piece of me, just get in line-”_ _

“You bloody fucking _scam_ I wish I had never…” Harry looks up quickly when Draco’s sentence stops. He wants to kick himself in the teeth when he sees the tears in Draco’s eyes. “Just… sod off, _Potter_.”

_ _It takes everything in Harry’s being not to wince at the way that Draco spits his name out of his mouth like it’s poison. The boy looks like he wants to put his hands on Harry, and not in the way that they had touched each other through the summer. His eyes tell Harry that the blond could probably rip his throat out if he so wished, but he doesn’t. Draco takes a deep, shaky breath, tilting his head a little higher, before turning on his heels in what appears to be as posh of a manner as he can muster. Harry watches Draco go, the blond’s shoulders shaking a bit in what Harry hopes isn’t due to his crying, as he hears what sounds like Ron and Seamus chuckling behind him. He doesn’t even stop the hurt on his face from settling. He can’t shift his eyes from watching Draco storm away, and it seems as though Pansy and Ginny have noticed, because they move into Harry’s line of sight._ _

_ _He regrets shifting his focus; he should have just let his eyes stay blurry._ _

_ _Pansy is standing with her arms crossed, showing off both manicured hands. Her face is sporting that knowing smirk that Harry absolutely despises. She gets it rather often, but it’s most prominent and poisonous after Harry fucks up big._ _

_ _Ginny’s face makes Harry feel even worse. She has her hands on her hips, her left index finger tapping her left hip rather quickly and her right foot tapping at the ground in a slower cadence._ _

_Oh god…_

_ _Now he knows he’s in trouble._ _

_ _Her brows are furrowed more than should probably be possible, and her cheeks are turning an angry red that Harry has never been fond of seeing because he knows it means no good things in his direction. She’s glaring daggers._ _

_ _“Harry…?”_ _

_ _The voice doesn’t come from either girls, but it’s most definitely feminine. Harry turns his attention to the right and sees Hermione, giving him a confused and sad look. “What was that?”_ _

_ _“It was bloody brilliant is what it was!” Harry hears Ron say from behind him and he watches Hermione’s face turn to horror._ _

_ _“Ronald!”_ _

_ _“Seriously…” Dean’s voice this time. Harry’s world is spinning fast so he busies himself by trying to focus his attention on the people walking around them. He wants to avoid all of this. He feels like he’s about to lose his cool any second and he can’t do that in front of everyone. _ _

_ _Dean’s voice continues, and Harry wishes it was further away. “... what was that? Was this your doing, Pansy?”_ _

Her face changes to one of genuine shock. “_My_ doing?”

_ _“Yeah! Are you trying to make Harry look like a prick?” Dean’s about as defensive as Harry has ever heard him be and Harry just wants to go home._ _

“Pardon me,” Pansy starts with poison in her voice, “but I didn’t say a word. If Harry Potter was made to look a prick, our precious _Chosen One_ did it all by himself.” She pauses to look straight into Harry’s eyes. He’s absolutely convinced in that moment that she must be a witch, because he can’t even force himself to look away. She could kill him with her look as she speaks venomous silk: “And doesn’t that hurt most of all.”

_ _He can’t say anything. He wishes he could keep her stare now, just to challenge her attempt at intimidation, but he crumbles after a second. He opts to look down at his shoes and check for any scuffs._ _

_Gods I’m an idiot._

_ _“C’mon girls,” Pansy says, her arms still crossed, “let’s go check up on our friend.”_ _

Harry’s blood starts to boil at the thought. When did they become Draco’s friends? Harry spent his entire summer with him, getting to know him, becoming his friend with the potential for something more and now this… _snake_ of a girl is going to go and say she’s his friend? Going to go take care of him?

_ _Going to wipe away the tears that Harry himself put there…_ _

_Shite…_

_ _He watches Pansy turn and walk in the direction that Draco did, with Ginny giving Harry the coldest stare he’s ever seen before she trails behind. Blaise, wearing his Pink Ladies jacket around his shoulders, sends a strange look to Harry before turning away and walking behind Ginny._ _

_ _“Traitor!” Ron seethes at the boy._ _

_ _Blaise turns, sending an air kiss with his right hand while pretending to jack himself off with his left, sneering at the redhead. Then his back is to them again, catching up to Ginny even with his lazily sauntering strides._ _

_ _Harry’s gaze turns to Hermione, who is searching his face for some kind of answer._ _

_ _“Hey Lu-” she begins, before the blonde girl cuts in._ _

_ _“Want to join us, ‘Mione?” Luna asks in her soft and kind voice, offering up her arm to link with Hermione’s. Harry almost forgot she was there. Hermione nods silently, giving the boys one last disapproving look before walking off in the same direction as the rest of the Pink Ladies._ _

Harry feels like he could vomit, he feels like he could actually _vomit_ from the stress building up in his chest. He vaguely hears Ron and Seamus laughing and cracking jokes and he’s glad it sounds like they’re miles away. His feet cary him forward without even thinking about it, wanting to leave this oppressive feeling behind him as if it’s a bubble he can pop and escape from.

_ _“Harry!” Ron’s voice breaks through Harry’s shield. “I’ve got a car now, remember? C’mon!”_ _

_ _Harry does his best to train his breath back down into something calmer and less on the verge of a breakdown. He turns around and sees his friends busying themselves by climbing into the car._ _

_ _He rushes to get in with them._ _

_ _~~~_ _

_ _Red is absolutely all Draco can see as he dodges people in his rush away, unafraid of shouldering anyone who gets too close._ _

There’s red shorts running and red skirts swirling and red flames to his left and red in his eyes as he sees someone with green eyes looking at him with deep concern and he’s rushing towards those eyes seeing redred_red_.

And then he’s punching a broad, muscular chest, the water in his eyes overflowing and his punches landing far weaker than he wants and the person showing no sign of pain and he’s _red_, he can feel it, and it eggs him on even more until his fists are being captured in big, calloused hands just like Harry’s and he’s _sobbing_ like a _fucking idiot_ and _why did I let this boy do this to me?_ and…

_ _“Draco?”_ _

_ _Draco looks up, blinking his onslaught of tears away just enough so that he can see this boy is not Harry but Neville._ _

_ _“What’s happened?” And his eyes aren’t all that green but rather hazel. There’s a chestnut color in them that can’t even make them comparable to Harry’s and they hold far more care in this moment and Draco is seething at them before he even knows why. Then he’s screaming before his mind can catch up with anything:_ _

“Men are _scams_!” He pulls his hands away, yelling into Neville’s broad chest as he continues his punching. He knows full well that they’re weak. “Absolute _scum_!”

_ _“Alright, alright! We’re scum!” Draco can feel rather than see Neville’s hands scrabble to grab his punching fists into his hands again and his hands are so warm. “Are you okay?”_ _

_ _Draco wants to look up into Neville’s eyes but he knows he’s going to be disappointed to see hazel rather than emerald. He lays his head against the hard chest, finding solace in the support that it gives him._ _

_ _“I hate you.” He mutters, sniffling in a way that he knows must be entirely unattractive and he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He can feel his tears start to seep out onto the fabric of Neville’s shirt._ _

_ _Neville’s grasp gets looser, his voice softer and kinder. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to feel that way, but can I ask why?”_ _

_ _Draco sniffles again, his head absolutely aching from the sudden and intense wave of emotion._ _

_ _“Because you’re being so sweet when I’m trying to hate men.” Draco states plainly. He can feel the big arms around him start to shift a bit towards his body before hesitating immediately. Draco could almost chuckle at this boy’s nerves if he weren’t feeling like absolute shite._ _

And then Draco’s mind halts. He realizes where he is: at a goddamn school rally with people still shrieking and a fire still blazing, leaning his head against a poor, unassuming boy who didn’t ask to take care of his emotional breakdown, but is being a complete and utter _sweetheart_ about it. That fact alone is enough to nearly convince Draco to stay where he is, appearance be damned, but then he hears his mother’s chastisement in his mind and he pulls his hands away and straightens his back, doing his best to control his emotions.

_ _“A Malfoy should never cry in public.” Draco states, thinking it sounds rather good for the bubble in his throat after his crying. He takes a handkerchief out of his back pocket to wipe at his tears, eyes looking at the wet spot of water left on Neville’s shirt._ _

_ _Neville is making worried noises and Draco turns attention back to the taller boy’s concerned face._ _

_ _“Well I dunno about that, if you’re not feeling well then you shouldn’t hold yourself back…” His voice trails off as his eyes focus on something beyond Draco’s head. “Um…?”_ _

_ _Draco turns around slowly, seeing Pansy and the rest of the girls plus Blaise coming towards them. Draco can barely decipher Pansy’s expression through his still blurry eyes, but he can see some kind of sympathy in them that seems incredibly uncharacteristic of her. It’s gone rather quickly, her face stoning over. The rest of the people in their party are all giving him looks of immense sympathy and pity and Draco finds himself looking back to Pansy, finding more comfort in the face that isn’t looking at him like he’s a puppy with a broken leg._ _

_ _Everyone seems to want to talk, but Pansy beats them all to it by holding a pink jacket in front of Draco’s face._ _

_ _“Can’t be a Pink Lady unless you’re properly jaded.” She states, her voice even and flat and Draco appreciates it._ _

He looks down at the powder pink jacket, at the satin lining and the black, embroidered letters on the back. He looks down at it and sees something his father would _despise_, something that would claim him into a group, something that would label him as he walks through the halls.

_ _He reaches out to hold it, taking it in his hand and feeling the slippery fabric. As he spins it around in his appraisal, he sees smaller text embroidered on the front, and realizes that it’s his name._ _

_ _His heart skips a bit._ _

_...properly jaded…_

_ _Draco places the jacket around his shoulders casually, looking up at the group in front of him. There are too many expressions to take in at one moment, but he sees Pansy’s small smile and it’s strangely comforting._ _

_ _~~~_ _

_ _Neville glances over Pansy, Ginny, and Luna as they all crowd around Draco a bit and speak animatedly, but his focus sharpens on Blaise. His posture is a little more hunched than usual, crossing the line from cool to self conscious._ _

_ _Neville walks over determinedly, smiling at the girls as he passes them but then fixes his gaze right into Blase, pushing into the middle of his chest to get them away from the group of girls._ _

“Blaise…” His voice is the dangerous warning that he hoped it would be. “What the _fuck_.”

_ _Blaise’s posture straightens up again but his eyes betray the guilt he feels. “Neville, I swear I tried.”_ _

_ _Neville ignores it._ _

“I _told_ you.” Neville lets his look bore into Blaise until he sees him crumble in his guilt. “The second _week_, I told you! I asked you to tell Harry!”

_ _“And I did!” Blaise’s palms shoot up in defense. “I told him once. I can’t completely control him.”_ _

“I _reminded_ you.” Neville is near seething now, shaken up from seeing Draco in the exact state that he hoped he’d never see him. You could have-”

_ _“Neville!”_ _

_ _Luna’s voice is flitting through the air, a light and friendly sound that always makes Neville immediately react._ _

_ _“Would you like to come with us to my house?” She calls, flouncing closer to them. “We’ll be sleeping over but you don’t have to if you don’t want.”_ _

_ _Her smile calms his heart a bit. “Thank you, Luna, but my gram gets really upset if I’m not home before she goes to bed.”_ _

_ _He shoots her a sympathetic smile and she nods her understanding. He checks his watch, realizing the time and rushing to say his goodbyes to everyone. He gives a general one, before walking a bit closer to Draco, who has become a bit separated from the group of chatting girls._ _

_ _“Uhm… I’m sorry about all of this, Draco… uh… you don’t… see, I told… huh…” He can’t get his words out, amazed at how difficult it is to look past such gray eyes._ _

_ _Just when he thinks he’s collected himself enough to speak like a normal person, there’s a body close to him reaching up and kissing his cheek._ _

_ _His eyes widen considerably, heart racing as he looks down into Draco’s smirking face._ _

_ _“Thank you, Neville.” He states, quietly. Neville can feel dark eyes burning into his back and he wiggles a bit uncomfortably._ _

_ _“I didn’t-” He starts, confused beyond belief._ _

_ _“Perhaps we can go to the soda fountain next Monday? I’ll meet you after school.”_ _

_ _He looks into storming gray eyes that surprisingly do rather little to ease his discomfort._ _

_ _Neville’s nodding dumbly and leaving before his mind can stop spinning, still feeling the heat of eyes boring into his back._ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _Luna’s house is… interesting, to say the least. It’s rather large and thin with so many plants in the front yard that it can hardly be called a garden. Each plant looks well taken care of, but as far as landscaping is concerned, it’s nothing short of a mess._ _

_ _Inside isn’t any less of a mess and, thankfully for Draco, they don’t spend much time at all in what he can only assume is the living room. They give a quick hello to Luna’s father, bent over a desk typing something with a typewriter, before they follow each other up the stairs and into Luna’s room._ _

There are a couple of windows on one wall and a _lot_ of drawings on any empty space imaginable. Draco can just make out the figures of Ginny, Pansy, Granger, Blaise, and Neville in quite a few of them.

_ _If any of them resemble Harry Potter, then Draco conveniently doesn’t take any notice._ _

_ _Pansy closes the door behind her, reaching into the pocket of her jacket to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Draco watches her carefully in mild surprise before looking to Ginny and Luna as they both take a seat on the slightly messy bed and Granger seats herself in a plush chair. Granger reaches into her bag and pulls out a book that Draco is surprised fit inside of it. Blaise refused to come, looking rather cross with a flush just barely showing through his dark complexion._ _

_ _The sound of a window opening and a lighter being lit takes Draco back to Pansy._ _

_ _She’s holding the cigarette to her slightly frowning mouth, the flame of the lighter glowing on her face as she takes a long drag of her cigarette. He almost feels transfixed by the sight, watching the girl’s dark lashes against her light tan face as she looks out at the street below her and blows the smoke out of the window._ _

_ _A bit of remaining smoke flows delicately out of her mouth as she turns back around, examining her nails in what Draco has come to believe is a habit of hers._ _

_ _“Can you not do that?”_ _

_ _He’s asking it before he thinks about it, but he doesn’t regret it. He feels four pairs of eyes snap up to look at him, Pansy’s blank before they begin assessing him. No one is speaking anymore._ _

_ _She takes another drag, looking him right in the eye, before blowing the smoke out into the room deliberately. She only turns her head towards the window when Luna’s light cough comes from the bed._ _

_ _When she looks back at Draco, there’s a sense of confidence in them. Draco sees right through it._ _

_ _“Pardon me?” Pansy asks, voice sick of sugar._ _

_ _“Can you not smoke?” Draco asks again, making his tone pointed. He doesn’t falter in his confident stance._ _

_ _“If you’re going to start listing health risks, you can save your sweet breath.” Pansy says through a sardonic smile. Her cigarette lays limply in her hand and Draco stares at it with a hard look until he sees the hand holding it start to fidget and lay on the windowsill so that the ashes fall onto the roof and not the soft, blue carpet._ _

“If not for your own health, then at least for _mine_.” He gives her a smirk as she whips her head around, black bobbed hair sticking to her lipstick. Her wide eyes make him want to chuckle, but he just lets his amusement stay evident in his eyes. “A single cigarette could make me _ill_.” He emphasizes, smiling when he hears Ginny’s laugh from the bed.

_ _Draco is staring at the girl, her eyes still wide before a smirk crosses her face and she’s leaning her hand out of the window to stamp the cigarette out onto the side of the house._ _

_ _“You posh fucking bastard.” Draco hears her mutter under her breath, shaking her head and chuckling all the same. She looks back to him, mirth twinkling in her eyes before she stands up, still holding her now dead cigarette, to cross the small room and turn on the radio. The song Raining on Prom Night plays faintly as the girls settle back into their places._ _

_ _Ginny reaches around Luna, digging into her own bag and pulling out a couple of bottles of what Draco assumes is shandy. She hands one to Pansy, who smiles a bit as she takes it. Draco looks to the two other girls to gauge their reactions. Luna is sitting next to Ginny, not affected in the slightest by Ginny practically curling around her to get to her alcohol. The girl’s long light blonde hair is in her face as she hunches over a piece of paper, drawing something Draco can’t see. Hermione hasn’t looked up from her book since Draco mentioned Pansy’s cigarette._ _

_ _“Would you like some, Draco?” Draco’s attention turns to a lightly freckled hand holding a bottle of shandy as she also hands a paper bag to Pansy. Pansy puts her cigarette into the bag and throws it into the bin in the corner._ _

_ _Draco thinks about consuming luke warm alcohol and promptly shakes his head, his face scrunching up in disgust. He can hear Pansy snort from his right._ _

“Let me guess, alcohol will make you _ill_ as well?” There’s only a hint of malice in her voice. Draco shoots her a look anyway.

“I don’t plan on drinking luke warm, mediocre alcohol in the middle of another person’s bedroom before I go to bed.” He pulls the pink jacket still casually draped on his shoulders a little tighter around himself. “I may be jaded, but I’m not utterly _depressed_.”

_ _Pansy chuckles into her bottle, rolling her eyes in a way Draco could describe as good-naturedly. He hears Ginny muttering bitterly behind him._ _

They sit and listen to music, Draco sitting on the window sill that Pansy was smoking her cigarette on, being careful not to sit in the ash she let fall out onto the seat. He’s happy to be chatting about anything _other_ than Harry, although his mind still starts to wander every now and then to sparkling green eyes and dark messy hair and thick framed glasses.

_ _“Draco!”_ _

_ _Luna’s voice is closer than it should be and he looks up to see her smiling face before his vision is blocked by what looks like a drawing of him and Luna._ _

_Are we… holding hands?_

_ _“I drew you and I! I hope you don’t mind, I do love to hold my friends close to me and I feel like we’ve become close!” Draco’s eyes flit from the drawing up into Luna’s happy eyes. “I wanted to get your blessing before I put it on my wall!”_ _

_ _Draco’s lets his gaze fall back down to the drawing, not so much figuring out whether or not he wants the drawing up on Luna’s wall but more looking at how Luna has decided to portray him._ _

_ _He looks at his nicely sketched out hair, put neatly in place even in her style, gray eyes, slightly upturned mouth, earri-_ _

_ _“Is that an earring?”_ _

_ _Luna giggles a bit and it sounds nervous to Draco’s ears._ _

_ _“I messed up a bit on your ear and I accidentally made it look like you have an earring.” She shifts the paper over so that they can both look at it. “But I think you look rather charming with it!”_ _

_ _Her smile is blinding._ _

_ _“Ginny agrees!” Draco’s attention turns to Ginny, who’s looking up from where she’s painting her nails a deep green. Her eyes widen a bit before she nods._ _

_ _“Oh, yeah! You’d look dashing with your ears pierced.”_ _

_ _Draco eyes go back down to the paper, tilting his head a bit in thought._ _

_ _“Would you want to pierce your ears?”_ _

_ _That gets Draco going, eyes wide and a faint burn on his cheeks. “Would I what?”_ _

_ _Luna looks so excited that Draco feels like the question has already been answered for him._ _

_ _“You would look so lovely with them! Pansy, don’t you think?”_ _

_ _Draco is going to get whiplash from all of the different directions that he’s turning. Pansy is seated atop the vanity, fixing her lipstick with her nail and humming absentmindedly to the song playing. She locks eyes with Draco through the mirror, looking focused before nodding._ _

_ _“I agree, it’d look hot.”_ _

_ _“I could do it for you!”_ _

_ _Draco’s mind is swimming._ _

“You’re… _you_ are going to stick a needle through my ear?” He’s searching her face, eyes darting around the room a bit before going back to her eyes. This place is a mess; a quiet and almost organized mess, but still a mess. This is _Luna_, the girl who gets caught up in her own daydreams so often that Ginny once had to pull a lock of her hair out so that she could ask her a question.

_ _“Yes!” She’s as confident as he’s ever seen her and if that isn’t as good as gold. “I don’t have a pin!” Her face dulls a bit, looking around helplessly._ _

_ _“Oh, I think I have my virgin pin in my bag.” Ginny waves her hand around a bit before reaching into her bag and pulling out a shiny pin._ _

_ _Pansy snorts into her bottle, earning a nasty glare from Ginny._ _

_ _“Say one word and I slaughter you with it.” Pansy’s face is pure amusement._ _

_ _“With a pin? Think highly of your slaughtering skills, do you?”_ _

_ _Ginny is scowling. “You’re lucky Luna needs this.” She spits, before turning to Luna with the sweetest look on her face. “Here you go, love.”_ _

_ _“Thank you so much, Ginny!” Luna takes the pin gingerly, cleaning it off a bit on the end of her shirt before turning back towards Draco. His eyes go a bit cross eyed as he looks at it. Suddenly the room is spinning._ _

_ _Looking back down at the drawing, Draco catches a glimpse of the pink fabric still draped around his shoulders, thinking extensively about his father._ _

_ _“My father will absolutely despise it.” He wishes he could make his voice go even a little louder to keep from sounding so afraid, but he can’t will it for the life of him._ _

_ _“And how do you like your father?” Pansy’s voice comes from her perch on the vanity. Draco meets her eye._ _

_ _“I absolutely despise him.”_ _

_ _Her grin turns feral. “All the more reason.” She says over a delicate wave of her hand._ _

_ _Draco looks back down at the pin, swallowing his terror. He nods._ _

_ _Luna is overjoyed as she quickly takes his hand and stands him up, leading him over to the bathroom connected to her bedroom._ _

_ _“Just go inside the bathroom and I’ll go downstairs and get everything we need!” She lets go of his hand before skipping out of the room. Draco absentmindedly puts the drawing on a nearby dresser, still looking at the pin with a mortified stare. He really wishes he could find the strength to hide his fears, but he truly cannot, and he knows that Pansy is going to jump at it._ _

“Hey,” Pansy starts in a soft voice, kicking her legs over the edge of the vanity and letting them swing lightly. “Don’t be too scared, Luna wouldn’t hurt a _fly_.”

_ _Stupidly, Draco allows the words to calm his nerves. He knows Pansy can tell- she can always tell- before her grin turns absolutely frightful._ _

_ _“Intentionally.” She adds, tacking on a wicked cackle afterwards and a pillow is thrown at her, knocking her lightly in the face. Draco laughs._ _

_ _“Hey! Don’t scare him, you witch!” Ginny doesn’t look too angry, but Pansy is certainly irritated as she throws the pillow back._ _

_ _It’s just then that Draco notices Granger as the pillow misses and lands near her feet. The look she’s giving him is intense, her lip being chewed up and her eyebrows furrowed in what appears to be rather heavy concentration. It’s the kind that Draco usually sees her give her schedules or plans, not so much her acquaintances._ _

_ _“I’ll help you!” She states matter of factly as she stands herself up and makes her way over to him briskly. Draco is so taken by surprise that he can barely fight her as she grabs hold of his arm and guides him into the bathroom._ _

_ _In one swift motion she brings him into the bathroom, closes the door, moves over to the closed toilet seat, and sits down rather primly. The look that she gives Draco is one that a secretary gives a lost student almost unworthy of her time, but the second Draco’s eyebrow raises, her face lowers._ _

_ _She lets out a light sigh, posture deflating as she gives Draco a rather bashful look through her thick lashes. She stands up and looks nervously at Draco before gesturing shyly to the closed toilet seat._ _

_ _“Would you like to sit?” She asks. Draco gives her his best disbelieving look, making the girl wilt under his gaze yet again. “Right…” She says under her breath, making a look of embarrassed distaste to the things around her._ _

_ _The bathroom is a mix of white, pastel blue, and pastel pink. None of it is dirty so much as it is cluttered. It’s rather small for a bathroom, but still larger than Draco expected for such an old looking house. It has just enough space for both a toilet and a small bathtub with a shower head in the back._ _

_ _But it’s still a bathroom, and Hermione must have realized that Draco is nowhere _near_ desperate enough for a seat that he would sit on a toilet, closed or not._ _

_ _Granger’s eyes are darting around the bathroom quickly, as if her plan only extended as far as getting Draco alone. He can’t stop eyeing her curiously, wondering why the girl who has been rather quiet all night has suddenly decided to play the role of Draco’s friend._ _

_ _Her eyes go wide before she blinks into a sigh._ _

_ _“I left my book on the chair.”_ _

_ _Draco raises his eyebrow at her, waiting for further explanation._ _

_ _“I’m just… concerned about Pansy. But I’m sure Ginny wouldn’t let her do anything.”_ _

_ _She seems to be talking to herself more than to him, but he responds anyway, eyebrow still raised._ _

“And _why_ would Pansy want to harm your silly little book, Granger?” It sounds a little too harsh to his ears and the wince that Granger gives just further proves it. He wants to not care.  
Granger locks eyes with him, her eyes darker than normal.

_ _“She’s done it before.” There’s a faint blush showing through her light brown skin, her voice incredibly small._ _

_ _Draco is about to make another comment when Pansy’s shrill laughter comes from the other side of the door. Draco jumps a bit, the pin he’d forgotten about slipping past his fingers and onto the floor with a soft sound._ _

_ _He looks down, the sound shocking him more than the laughter, and suddenly the anxiety of having a hot needle pushed through the flesh of his ear is bubbling up inside of his chest again._ _

_This tiny, sharp object is going to be the death of me. Even with all I’ve been through, a single needle is enough to strike such fear in me._

_ _“There’s no reason be scared.” Granger’s voice takes Draco out of it, and suddenly his fear is about the fact that he may have let too much of his emotion show through._ _

_ _He looks into her eyes and sees an expression of caring pity. He figures his face distorts into one of distaste because suddenly she’s looking down at her slightly tapered, navy blue skirt. _ _

_ _“Luna has done this before. I watched her pierce the Weasley twins ears and they left with all four of their ears and a majority of their blood. They also squirmed a lot more than I’m sure you will, so there’s no real reason for worry.”_ _

_ _Draco’s face flushes at the mention of a loss of blood. Such an idea is utterly horrific for him, he’s never been able to settle with the idea of losing blood. Any sight of a cut used to seem to strike fear into his mother’s heart when he was a child and was thus passed on to Draco as well._ _

_ _When Granger’s eyes go searching for his face again, he sees her expression drop into mild alarm, perhaps at the loss of color in his face. It’s not as if there’s much there to begin with, he’s aware, but when it’s gone, he’s also aware that he looks nearly dead._ _

_ _“Pansy was right when she said Luna wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Granger tries again, voice careful and calculated, like she’s teaching a lesson in Chemistry using very dangerous ingredients. “And for as distracted as Luna often is, she is always fully aware when she or anyone else is in a position where someone could get hurt. And when she’s aware of that, she always exercises an extreme amount of caution.”_ _

_ _Her calculated voice calms him down, and after a beat of silence he nods sagely at her. The two of them sit in silence for a minute, up until Luna is bursting through the bathroom door with a giggle attached to every step and stumble._ _

_ _“I got all of the things we need!” She says, laying it all down on the counter, not nearly as concerned with the lack of color in Draco’s face- that he is fully aware is evident -as Granger was._ _

_ _“Ready?” Luna asks, whipping around to him, needle in hand after fully preparing it._ _

_ _Draco doesn’t think it’s healthy to feel faint for this long._ _

_ _~~~_ _

Draco only _nearly_ puked at the sight of his blood when Luna pushed the needle through his ear. Both Luna and Granger were incredibly calm and patient with him, cleaning up any mess and helping him breathe through it. The most shocking discovery was their ability to keep him calm.

_ _Or perhaps his ability to allow them to calm him._ _

_ _Currently, Granger has assured Luna that she can excuse herself to go make sure Pansy and Ginny haven’t destroyed anything and convinced the girl that she would be more than capable of taking care of Draco for whatever he needs._ _

_ _So here he is, sitting on the closed toilet seat because both Luna and Granger were far too concerned for his well being to allow him to stand as he got pierced. He has a single earring in his right ear because he nearly puked and the fear in his eyes told Luna that he couldn’t make it through another one (as he was hoping it would do, but he’d never admit to that). Luna told him it was alright, because she lost one of her small pearls just a couple of days ago and she was going to find an art project to put the spare one in, “but now it can find a proper home with you!”_ _

_ _She cleaned it off and gave it to Draco, putting it in his ear gently._ _

_ _And here Draco is, playing absently with his new earring and still unable to see how good it must look because he still doesn’t think there’s enough blood in his head to properly stand. Luna assured him that it looked “incredibly dashing” and for some reason he always seems to believe her._ _

_ _And he’s still sitting and minutes feel like seconds but also hours in this silence as Granger fidgets in the corner of the small bathroom and he’s suddenly aware of how she smells of warm vanilla and maybe that’s what has comforted him this whole time and-_ _

_ _“Draco?”_ _

_ _Granger’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, looking up into her openly concerned face._ _

_ _He just quirks his eyebrow in question._ _

_ _“How are you feeling?”_ _

_ _Draco doesn’t know what to say to the sound of her genuine voice. He opts with the truth._ _

_ _“Still a little faint.” His voice sounds far stronger than he feels._ _

_ _She nods. “I can go get you some water.”_ _

_ _He shakes his head before he thinks. “I don’t need water.”_ _

_ _She nods again, this time in understanding, and her face twists in some kind of worry and confusion._ _

_ _“Draco… Well…” She scratches a bit at the side of her forehead. “I just wanted to talk to you about… well…”_ _

_ _Draco watches the put-together girl fumble, and he’s instantly reminded of Neville. He finds this far less endearing, however._ _

_ _“Do refrain from hurting yourself, Granger.” Draco’s voice comes out slowly and it sounds rather harsh, even to his own ears, but he doesn’t feel as bad about it this time as he did before. Her face turns cross before her expression drops, sighing in what sounds like defeat._ _

_ _“I want to talk to you about Harry.”_ _

_ _Draco rolls his eyes, letting the action help him ignore the way his heart drops at the sound of the beautiful boy’s name._ _

“I’ve been able to avoid talk with him all night, of course I want to talk about him with _you_, Granger, that’s _exactly_ what I’ve been waiting for.” He spits the words out at her, speaking until his heart calms and he thinks he’ll be able to breathe without having words to form his mouth around.

_ _She looks like she’s about to sigh again, but instead her eyes steel over in determination and she dodges around the hamper quickly so that she can sit against the wall across from the toilet. She gets herself into a position that leaves her at the same height that Draco is at whilst sitting._ _

_ _“Look, I know you don’t consider me a friend. You don’t even consider me a close enough acquaintance to call me by anything more personal than my surname,” She starts, her voice less rushed and more irritated this time around. “But this is important for you and Harry and I would greatly appreciate if you could put whatever coldness you have towards me aside so that we can handle this clearly and rationally.”_ _

_ _Granger’s tone is far from what Draco is used to; she’s clearly not talking about a plan for her next tutoring session but is rather about to put Draco in his place. Her cold voice is the only thing keeping him in his spot- that and his still slightly loopy head -so he decides merely nodding at her will have to do._ _

_ _Granger gives a quick nod as well, before taking a deep breath to go into what Draco can only assume is going to be an incredibly calculated rant._ _

_ _“I’ve known Harry since we were 11 years old. He’s been my best friend for 7 years, and we’ve been close since the beginning, even closer than him and Ron.” Draco isn’t sure who Ron is. “He is typically kind and has always had good intentions. He just gets… lost.”_ _

_ _Draco is fully aware of the sneer overtaking his face. He’s looking at her in disbelief and she seems to refuse to be disheartened._ _

_ _“His intentions seemed rather clear tonight.” Draco seethes, but her stoic face doesn’t falter._ _

_ _“Did they?” Granger’s tone is disbelieving. It fuels a fire._ _

“Of _course_ they did, it was _obviously_ to embarrass me beyond belief and make it clear that he wants nothing to do with me anymore!” He wants to yell at her for making him feel so strongly again but all he can do is seal his mouth to keep from crying.

_ _He watches her take a quiet breath that he feels he should be taking._ _

_ _“The entire situation escalated far quicker than it should have, and never should have gone as far as it did. It should never have started, but in all of the insanity that ensued, I was well aware of the shade of red that was showing up on his face and I came to the conclusion that he was embarrassed as well.” Draco scoffs and she gives a rather sour look in his direction._ _

_ _“I’m being completely serious.” Her face proves her statement. “I analyzed his facial expressions throughout the altercation and saw not only how they changed drastically once he started becoming cruel, but also how his friends seemed to affect him before he changed, and thus I believe that they forced him to act that way.”_ _

_ _Draco is doing his best to follow along, but it feels like there are speakers in his brain connected to his heart._ _

“From what _I_ saw,” Draco replies in a bitter tone, “he acted like an absolute arse all on his own.”

_ _Draco doesn’t let on that he was too busy blinking back red tears to fully analyze every minor expression the fucking prat was making. He doesn’t think he should have been expected to give a 10 page dissertation on the expression of the boy who just ripped his heart out._ _

_ _Granger shakes her head adamantly._ _

_ _“His friends have more power over him and his actions than they should, and I’ve tried to make him aware as soon as I was aware.” Her tone is getting even harder. “They all hold their reputations over anything else. But…”_ _

_ _For the first time since Harry was brought up, Granger’s tone falters. Draco’s eyes search her face for any answer. He watches her take a (probably much needed) breath._ _

_ _“Harry’s face was more genuinely happy than I’ve ever seen it since we started at Hogwarts.”_ _

_ _Draco is completely at a loss with how to react to such information, so he decides to put on his best poker face. Granger’s eyes are gazing towards the ground now, looking like she’s calculating a rather long maths problem._ _

_ _“I’ve never seen Harry lower his guard like that around others, except for his uncles.” Her eyes are shifting a bit, never rising from the ground, looking as if she’s still trying to calculate something. “In fact… I don’t think I’ve seen him that genuinely happy since his Uncle Sirius told him that he had permission to ride his motorcycle.”_ _

Draco’s heart drops and the pinpricks are showing up on his legs as he thinks about Harry Potter’s muscled thighs straddling the leather seat of a motorcycle and Draco’s about to lose any and all semblance of dignity because he can feel himself start to _sweat_ and Malfoy’s don’t _sweat_.

He clears his throat, desperate for Granger to just _stop talking_ so as to allow him to gather his thoughts and emotions, but she does no such thing. In fact, she’s seemingly oblivious to any of his feelings which he’s sure are at least somewhat visible on his face. His father would be horrified.

_ _“And his smile was very clearly a Duchenne smile, if any of my reading was accurate, which I’m quite sure it was because I’ve done a lot of research on it recently to-” Draco looks up into Granger’s face and sees it begin to blush red._ _

“Quite the sentimental one, aren’t you Granger? Is there ever a moment where you’re _not_ inhaling a book?” He nearly starts chuckling as she turns hard eyes onto him.

_ _“How else is one supposed to learn facts about anything one happens to be curious about if not by reading about them from professionals on the subject?” It’s the fastest she’s talked all night, clearly flustered by being “called out on”, as it were._ _

_ _Draco just gives the red, bushy girl a small smile._ _

_ _“I agree, Granger.”_ _

_ _The expression that appears on her face cracks an amused smile onto his own. Her utter astonishment nearly leaves him feeling guilty that he’s been so hostile to her that the smallest form of agreement has left her utterly shocked. He feels only nearly guilty, however._ _

_ _She shakes her head a bit, using both hands to smooth her hair down in vain and then looks back towards him._ _

_ _“Right, well, I just…” Her voice is even more calculated before she completely relaxes into her stance again, sitting against the wall and looking down at her clean nails. “Look, Harry was genuinely happy tonight. I think that you make him genuinely happy. I made clear my history with him so that you would know that I should be the one to know when Harry is happy and when he’s not. I think you’re good for him.”_ _

_ _She looks back up to him, and he’s caught off guard by her hopeful yet pressing stare. He doesn’t know what expression she sees, but he has difficulty schooling it back into neural._ _

_ _“I think he’s good for you too. I wasn’t able to fully analyze your facial expressions considering your back was facing me, but I could hear a genuine joy in your voice that I haven’t heard at all for the mere month that I’ve known you. And I hate to assume, but…” Her eyes are still searching but it’s softly and he doesn’t understand what this girl thinks she’s doing but her noble attitude is disgusting him and bubbling him over at the same time. “I just think he’s good for you, too. And I’d hate for the toxic nature of your conversation with him tonight to push you both away from each other.”_ _

_ _He coughs a bit, looking down at his polished shoes and feeling a light headedness that he knows can’t be attributed to his recent piercing._ _

_ _As he thinks on her words, he’s also reminded of how Ginny and Pansy have been acting all night. Hermione is still searching his face._ _

_ _“Are you concerned about something?” She wonders aloud, not quite as tactful as one would think the girl would be._ _

_She definitely seems driven by logic and facts._

_ _Draco holds his tongue, not willing to show any more weakness, but he can’t keep his eyes away from the door. As if on cue, he hears Pansy and Ginny laugh loudly, causing the sound to ring in his ears._ _

_ _Draco looks back at Granger to see her looking on with a tilt of her head._ _

_ _“I know they can come off rather… strong… but Pansy and Ginny have good intentions. Ginny’s just… worried for you. She got burnt badly. She… she dated Harry.”_ _

_ _Draco’s shoots his eyebrows up to his hairline._ _

_ _“And you’re sure she’s worried _for_ me?”_ _

_ _Granger seems to take a second before catching on. “Her and Harry are completely over, they didn’t mesh very well together. He’s… distracted and she’s far too self-assured to let anything like that happen to her, and too impatient to deal with it. It didn’t end well, and I don’t fully blame either side, it’s just that…” She looks down at the ground in what Draco assumes is to gather her thoughts. “They weren’t right for each other. He’s not what she needs and vice versa. But I truly think that you and Harry compliment each other.”_ _

_ _Granger looks back into Draco’s eyes now, her own brown eyes lit with a determined and bright look that warms Draco’s chest._ _

_ _“I just hope it’s not too out of line to say that I wish for your happiness just as much as I wish for Harry’s, and I truly believe that you will find happiness within each other.”_ _

_ _The words seem hard for Hermione to push out, and Draco wonders if the warmth that continues to build up in his chest is due to pride as well._ _

_ _Draco stands up, head on right this time around, and smirks into Hermione’s rather intense face._ _

_ _“That was rather sentimental of you.” He knows his tone is smug and prissy, and he almost bites down a chuckle at the blush that shows on her face. Draco cuts off any words bubbling out of her. “Thank you, Hermione.”_ _

_ _And then Draco does let out a small chuckle because Hermione’s eyes turn into dinner plates and her face becomes a tanned tomato._ _

_ _His chuckles continue even as her shock morphs into a blushing smile and then the chuckles turn into a smirk as he quickly checks out his new earring in the mirror and the smirk stays there all the way until he opens the door and…_ _

“Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke… hell one _fucking_ cigarette makes him _ill_... pah! Mr. Posh with all of his silk... bet the git never rats his damn _perfect_ hair, huh?”

_ _Pansy is standing near the center of the room with her back to the bathroom, her sobriety clearly compensated by something. Perhaps Ginny’s brothers put something a little harder in the alcohol she stole, because Pansy is swaying slightly, her usually perfect bob now a bit ratted, like she’s been laying in bed and running her hand through it. Her voice isn’t completely slurred, but she’s definitely under the influence of something, and Draco’s smirk twitches into something a tad bigger._ _

“Unlike that… _Granger_, huh?” Draco’s eyes slide over to Ginny and Luna, who are watching Pansy with mild interest until Ginny and him catch eyes. Her eyes go wide just as Pansy begins walking backwards. “Can never get her hair under control. Obviously still a virgin, just like _posh_ Mr. Malfoy… No, they’re both so old fashioned that neither of them would ever get in the sack until after wedlock. It’s no surprise though, honestly. And not as if Granger is any _object of lust_...”

_ _And then Pansy’s back is running into Draco’s front and he’s near cackling as the girl turns around in total shock._ _

_ _“Making fun of us, are you Pansy?” Hermione asks, and Draco doesn’t even have to look over to see that her face is still red, but this time for a different reason._ _

_ _Pansy’s face quickly cools, rolling her eyes. She reaches a near wobbly hand out to pat Hermione’s cheek, which only makes the curly haired girl bristle and redden even more._ _

“Always one to get _touchy_, aren’t you Granger?” Then Pansy’s eyes are on Draco and her smile is lopsided but genuine. “Earring looks dashing on you, dear.”

_ _He gives her a nod of his head, chest still rumbling with low chuckles._ _

_ _They all sit down, the tension lowering as soon as Luna starts to ask everyone about their favorite baked goods so that she can make them for the next sleepover._ _

_ _As the night goes on, Draco’s guard lowers more and more; just when he thought he was at peak shock, this group of girls still surprises him._ _

_ _Now Ginny is laying on her stomach reading a book written by some man that everyone keeps laughing at her about (Draco couldn’t be bothered to listen for the name… some Crockhurt or something). Pansy has her legs out the small window, swinging them and letting them catch on the roof below where she let out the ashes of her cigarette, once again faintly humming along to the soft tune coming from the radio. Hermione is sitting on the bench by the sill right next to Pansy, breathing rather quickly and taking worried glances over to the slightly drunk girl who keeps mentioning how fun it would be to dance on the rooftop. Luna is sat in a big comfy armchair reading some magazine and giggling quietly every now and then._ _

_ _Draco is leaning against the headrest of the bed and reading one of Luna’s books when Pansy snorts loudly from the window._ _

_ _“This is the third goddamn time those stupid gits have rounded the block.”_ _

_ _Hermione immediately perks up from where she had finally relaxed back and once again began reading her book. She turns her head towards the window, sitting a little taller to presumably look out at the street._ _

_ _Draco merely lifts his eyes up to look at the two girls._ _

_ _“Is that… is that Ron?”_ _

_ _Draco’s eyes furrow at the name, recognizing it from when Hermione spoke to him in the bathroom._ _

“And our _dear, darling Harry_.” Pansy says with fake sugar in her voice.

_ _That gets Draco’s full attention, at least from his body. He forces his eyes to stay down on his book but his heart immediately picks up. He sneers down at his hands, watching them begin to shake slightly as a hand as pale as his reaches out and touches him. He looks up into Luna’s face, who’s smiling brightly._ _

_ _“Do you like the book, Draco?”_ _

_ _He nods slightly._ _

_ _“And, here they come again!” Pansy calls from her seat on the window, and this time Draco can hear the car in the quiet of the room. “Does anyone have the time?”_ _

_ _Hermione lifts her wrist up to check her watch. “It’s 9:42.”_ _

_ _Pansy hums quietly before:_ _

_ _“HEY!”_ _

_ _“Pansy!” Hermione admonishes, waving a hand in an attempt to hit the girl but it comes off as a gentle tap to her arm. “There are probably people sleeping!”_ _

“Yes, _squares_.” Pansy then turns her head back to the street. “HEY!” she calls again.

_ _Draco is staring at the back of Pansy’s head, eyes widening at the thought of her yelling down to the group of boys doing whatever it is they’re doing._ _

_ _Suddenly, Pansy shoots her arm up into the air, two fingers held high to flip the group off. At that gesture, the sound of the car revving and tearing away comes to Draco’s ears and his chest constricts at the sound._ _

_ _Pansy waves sardonically at them, probably in vain considering the sound of the car is now incredibly quiet due to its distance._ _

_ _“Did they have any girls with them?” Ginny asks the question Draco didn’t know he wanted the answer to, her voice full of distaste even though she doesn’t look up from the letter she’s now writing._ _

_ _“No, just four massive pricks with their four tiny pricks.”_ _

_ _Draco scoffs, heart beating wildly, shoving any thought of ‘pricks’ away from his mind. He’s incredibly aware of the side eye that Ginny gives him, and is quick to see some kind of judgement before he realizes the overwhelming concern that is actually there. He doesn’t bother looking at the others; he can already feel his head pitch at the thought of everyone looking at him with the same amount of concern. He turns his head back down to the book._ _

“And how are you feeling about our _Golden Boy_?”

_ _Draco knows Pansy is speaking to him, knows she’s staring into him right now without even having to look up from his book, knows her voice isn’t as poisonous as he was hoping._ _

_ _His voice is bubbling up in his throat before he can train it back down._ _

_ _“He fucking ripped love of me.” Draco snaps, whipping his head up to look Pansy straight in the eye and he hates the sympathy he finds. A sob forms in his chest._ _

_ _That, he’s able to push down. He continues to read his book through slightly blurring eyes. No one mentions Potter for the rest of the night._ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _It’s late afternoon the following Monday and Harry and Ron are standing outside of the Honeydukes Diner, watching the commotion outside like a car wreck. Cormac McLaggen is currently revving his engine in the parking lot, much to Mr. Flume’s dismay as he storms past the duo to teach the ducktail-ed, leather clad boy a lesson._ _

_ _They watch as Cormac nearly laughs right in the old man’s face before turning chicken as Flume lifts a broom, getting ready to strike his car painted with flames. Cormac rips out of the parking lot and away, but not before a girl jumps into it, the two of them letting the air carry their laughs away._ _

_ _Harry could gag, and sees that Ron must feel the same as he watches his friend’s face twist into a look of utter disgust._ _

_ _“I hate Cormac.” Ron grumbles under his breath and Harry laughs a bit as they enter the diner. As soon as they enter, Harry sees platinum blond out of the corner of his eye. He wishes desperately that he could keep his cool, but instead he nearly gives himself whiplash as he swings his head to see if it’s really who Harry thinks it is._ _

_ _And it is; there’s Draco Malfoy. He’s sitting with his back to the entrance of the diner but Harry would know the back of his head anywhere. Harry would know any part of that boy anywhere and it makes his stomach twist just at the thought. He can feel his face get paler, until his eyes shift a bit and recognize his good friend Neville on the other side of the table. The shy boy is blushing like a fool but has a smile that could rival Blaise’s most confident look. There’s a rather large and delicious-looking sundae half eaten in between them. Suddenly, Harry’s chest is bubbling with something completely different, but it doesn’t feel right being aimed at his friend._ _

_ _“Harry? Mate?” Ron’s voice comes filtering through Harry’s haze of anger and into his ears. Harry snaps to attention, turning to Ron._ _

_ _“Huh?”_ _

_ _“You alright?”_ _

_ _Harry nods, perhaps too enthusiastically. “Yup. I’m cool.”_ _

_ _Ron’s eyebrow quirks. “Not still thinking about that bloke, are you?”_ _

_ _Harry wants to argue the use of the term ‘bloke’. “Course not!”_ _

_ _He just barely convinces himself as he twists around Ron to walk in the general direction of their table._ _

_ _“I was just thinking…” Ron begins, his voice slightly apologetic._ _

_ _“Don’t think too much.” Harry tells him like a reminder, and Ron nods his head as they both sit down. The other three boys have secured a rounded booth for them, with Seamus sitting on the back of the booth, Dean to his left with his legs spread wide, and Blaise to Seamus’ right with his elbows leaning far over the table. Ron takes a seat next to Dean, facing outwards and greeting all of them._ _

_ _Harry looks around and does his absolute hardest not to look over at Draco as he slides into the booth next to Blaise. He allows his legs to hang off the side of the seat. This way he can pretend to fix his hair and look at Draco at the same time. He knows he isn’t imagining it when he makes eye contact with dark, storming eyes that make him feel immensely guilty._ _

_ _He vaguely listens to the rest of the guys talk about some kind of drag race, when suddenly, Pansy is standing in Harry’s line of vision._ _

_ _“Neville is quite a handsome bloke, huh Harry?” Pansy’s grin is nothing short of terrifying and it boils Harry’s blood. He watches her tongue snake out to lick her soft serve cone._ _

_ _“Up yours, Parkinson.” It’s Ron’s voice, and Harry whips his head around to look at Ron’s reddened face. His red eyebrows are furrowed deep and furious and Pansy’s cackle can be heard through the air._ _

_ _Rather than say anything, she opts for blowing a quick kiss to Blaise and slithering out the door. It makes Harry’s blood boil and as he looks over at Draco, he feels it get even hotter._ _

_ _Draco is standing now, making quick and freezing eye contact with Harry before turning to Neville, running his hand through his chestnut hair, and putting a hand out for something. Neville gives a small laugh and a shake of his head before reaching into his pocket and dropping change into Draco’s delicately pale hand._ _

_ _Memories of holding and kissing that hand (along with other things) come flooding back to Harry and he zones off to the point that he nearly misses Draco stepping over Ron’s outstretched legs. He only tunes in when he hears a wolf whistle and a small Irish voice yelp in pain._ _

_ _He can feel his face begin to burn, and it doesn’t get any better as he watches Draco walk away and over to the jukebox. Harry doesn’t even think, just focuses on his leg bouncing anxiously and then makes a hurried excuse for getting up from the table. The boys all make confused remarks but Harry isn’t paying attention, just walking with his head spinning and becoming suddenly aware that he has absolutely no plan. Before he can even begin to think about what to do, a girl is entering his line of sight, reaching her arms out to put them around his neck._ _

_ _“Hi Harry!”_ _

_ _It takes him a second to recognize her as Romilda Vane, but there’s nothing for him to recognize anymore because she’s attached herself to him and is running a long nailed hand down his back._ _

_ _“I didn’t like how you just walked away from me on the first day of school…”_ _

_ _Harry doesn’t know what to do with his hands, but he keeps them as far away from her as possible. His eyes dart around, trying to gauge where he is in the room when he sees him-_ _

_Damnit… Draco…_

The grey eyed boy’s stare is actual _ice_, and Harry nearly feels it go straight through his heart. It’s painful and cold and suddenly Draco’s face is turned back to the jukebox, as collected as ever, but eyes still focused into absolute daggers.

“I can’t talk.” Harry voice bubbles, moving his arms to her shoulders to gently pry her off. Romilda isn’t paying him any mind, still complaining so _loudly_.

“I thought you _liked_ me last year…”

_ _Harry’s head hasn’t been set on straight since he got up from the booth, and the feeling of Romilda’s body pressed against his is doing him absolutely no favors. He needs to get away and talk to Draco._ _

_ _“Seriously, I can’t talk.” He succeeds in pushing her away. He rushes to the bar as fast as he can, feeling her dark eyes follow him hungrily._ _

_ _“Call me!” She calls and Harry winces at the volume._ _

_ _And now he’s sitting at the bar like an absolute dunce, looking over at Draco who’s still flipping through the songs on the jukebox casually. Harry is immediately taken aback by how gorgeous the boy looks. His shoes are impeccable, black and shiny and sharp, and his legs in those form fitting trousers go up for days and days. Harry does his best to skip over Draco’s stunning arse, knowing he’d get far too distracted and rather focuses on Draco’s back, up straight and tall, neck slender and pale and adam’s apple so prominent and gorgeous. Just as Harry is looking at it, it moves, and Harry could just die not being able to pounce on it right now. He knows how sensitive Draco’s neck is…_ _

Then he’s looking at his face, which is pale and perfect and stunning and even for how low it seems to be right now it’s _beautiful_ and Harry feels like every fibre of his being is vibrating as he stands up and cooly makes his way over to Draco.

_Gods_ he hopes he looks cool.

_ _He runs his hand through his hair before he realizes that it’ll mess it up, and then struggles in vain to fix it before he reaches Draco._ _

_ _“Hey!” Harry’s voice is far too loud and he admires how Draco doesn’t even flinch. He clears his throat, wanting to come undone when Draco’s adam’s apple bobs after he does so. “Er… hi Draco.”_ _

_ _Draco’s eyebrow arches, but he doesn’t look anywhere but at the jukebox. He doesn’t even make anything similar to a sound. Harry’s being doesn’t stop vibrating, but he wills himself to stop being nervous. There’s nothing to be nervous about._ _

_If the lads found out I’m nervous…_

_ _“How are you?”_ _

_That didn’t sound very cool…_

_ _He can hear how soft his voice is, but he hopes the guys can’t hear it._ _

_ _Harry tries desperately to look into Draco’s eyes, not caring if he turns to stone from them. The boy does nothing more than purse his lips a bit._ _

_ _“Exceptional.”_ _

_ _Harry doesn’t think he can believe that._ _

_ _He clears his throat again, hyper-aware of the bobbing of Draco’s adam’s apple._ _

_ _“Draco, I’ve been meaning to talk to you-”_ _

“Sounds a bit too civil for you, _Potter_.” Draco spits Harry’s surname out like it’s poison and it brings Harry back to last Friday night. He doesn’t like it one bit.

_ _“I just wanted to talk to you about last Friday, at the bonfire.” Harry’s face feels like he’s right next to said bonfire and he’s suddenly very glad for his dark complexion. Draco barely makes a move, just flips the page on the jukebox, so Harry continues. “I acted pretty awfully… it was really awful…”_ _

_ _Harry looks down at the scuff on his sneakers. He can see Draco turn to him in his periphery, but suddenly he can’t even think about making eye contact with the boy. He doesn’t even want to think of seeing the same pain that he saw last week._ _

“It wasn’t me though.” he defends. It sounds wrong to his ears but he can’t stop. “I mean, it was _me_ but it wasn’t me, you know?”

_ _Draco’s face twists in Harry’s periphery and sharply turns back to the jukebox, flipping through the pages harshly. Harry’s words won’t stop gushing out of his mouth._ _

_ _“I just have this… image. You know? And I have to make sure it’s… I have to…” _ _

_ _Harry runs out of words, but Draco fills them in just nicely._ _

_ _“That’s why I enjoy Neville’s company.” Harry and Draco turn simultaneously. The boy is sitting at a table on an elevated part of the diner, examining the leaves of a small plant at the table, taking a very absent spoonful of the sundae in front of him. “He doesn’t have any reputation that he holds over anything else.”_ _

_ _The words dig at Harry’s heart in more ways than he can completely process._ _

_ _Neville looks over to the two of them and Draco seems to seize the opportunity to blow Neville a kiss. Neville does nothing but laugh, tilting his head back a bit and Harry sees his face even begin to turn red. Harry knows it isn’t too hot in here for the boy and suddenly there’s fire in his gaze as he stares down the boy he once thought a friend._ _

_ _Neville’s face turns even redder as he turns away and focuses on the plant again._ _

_ _Draco turns sharply towards Harry._ _

_ _“Would you stop intimidating him, you absolute fucking brute?”_ _

_ _Harry is taken aback, face burning with something he passes as anger. “Wha-? Tha- Neville’s my friend!”_ _

_ _Draco crosses his arms, tilting his head up slightly._ _

_ _“Ah yes, and every friend makes their friend feel self conscious and insignificant for their hobbies and passions.”_ _

_ _Harry is utterly lost, looking from Draco to Neville and back again._ _

_ _“What?”_ _

“At least Neville _has_ hobbies and passions. I’m sure you’re utterly oblivious to this glaring fact, but Neville happens to be one of the best track runners on the entire team.”

_ _Harry stares into Draco’s face, completely shocked by the words._ _

_Is he?_

_ _His mind is blank as he stares. Draco’s face twists up a bit at the silence._ _

“What have _you_ ever done?” Draco seethes quietly, and somehow that makes it hurt more. He then turns on his heel and walks right up to Neville. Harry watches Draco grab his friend’s arm in a hurry and then pull the boy out of the diner.

_ _He watches, utterly dumbfounded about such a heated altercation, mind racing with what his response could have possibly been to such a searing question._ _

_What have you ever done?_

_ _Harry goes up to the counter to order a Treacle Tart sundae._ _

_ _~~~_ _

_ _Blaise’s eyes are practically slits as he watches the tall, broad, brunet boy race out on the arm of Draco Malfoy. He shoots out of the booth, not bothering to waste time with some shitty excuse and rather just focusing on getting to his target in a hurry._ _

_ _Harry looks absolutely miserable as he thanks the waitress and tucks into his sundae._ _

_He’s going to be even more miserable soon._

_ _Blaise strides up to the counter and sits down at the seat right next to Harry._ _

_ _“One chocolate soda, please.” He asks after flagging down the waitress. She nods with a kind smile._ _

_ _Blaise’s face isn’t nearly as kind._ _

_ _“Hey, Harry.”_ _

_ _The response is nothing more than a noncommittal grunt into a spoonful of ice cream. Blaise smacks his shoulder, getting the boy to react, however briefly._ _

_ _“What, Blaise?”_ _

_ _Blaise almost feels bad for harassing someone who looks this sorry._ _

“Keep your little _boyfriend_ occupied, will you?” He warns, voice low and angry. Harry’s eyes are full of confusion as he looks up, a bit of whipped cream on his nose.

_ _“Wha-?”_ _

_ _Blaise rolls his eyes, thanking the waitress as his soda is placed in front of him. Blaise takes the napkin out from underneath the glass and wipes at Harry’s nose._ _

“_Draco_.” Blaise seethes, irritated with playing mother hen. “Keep him out of the goddamned way, alright?”

_ _Harry shakes his head away from Blaise’s napkin, confusion set prominently on his face._ _

_ _“Draco? Out of the way? Of what?”_ _

_ _Blaise rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to answer, but he’s cut off._ _

_ _“And he’s not my boyfriend.” Harry grumbles, turning back towards his sundae and letting his shoulder hunch down. Blaise is legitimately impressed at his own ability to keep his eyes in his head._ _

_ _“You fucking- augh.” He truly doesn’t have time for this. The boy he’s had a crush on for 3 years now is off running around the city with some pale little prince-y boy and Harry is absolutely no help._ _

“Fine. Fucking fine. You’re heartbroken, whatever, just get your shit together soon.” Blaise finishes off what he wants to of his soda and stands up, leaving a tip on the table and turning back to Harry. “Lord _knows_ the little git fancies you more than anyone should. Just do something about it, you idiot.”

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _Before lunch on Tuesday, Harry stalks behind the group a bit and watches Ron and Seamus dick around together. They’re cackling about something, Ron punching Seamus on the shoulder who then reaches up to mess up Ron’s hair. Blaise isn’t with them; wasn’t with them yesterday either, after he left with the girls at the bonfire._ _

_ _Harry pushes the thoughts out of his mind, grabbing Dean’s elbow and making an excuse about getting help with his hair that leaves his mind as soon as it leaves his mouth._ _

_ _Dean makes a confused sound, but follows rather willingly anyway._ _

_ _Harry pushes the bathroom door open harshly. He shoots an intense look to the couple of boys who are occupying the bathroom and they leave quickly. Dean makes an amused sound._ _

_ _“What’s on, mate?” Dean leans himself against the wall and looks to Harry, which doesn’t do too much to keep him off edge._ _

_ _Harry looks into the mirror, feigning nonchalance by running his hands along his hair to smooth it out._ _

_ _“Just had a question.” Harry thinks his voice sounds pretty good for how fast his heart is racing now that he’s here. Harry has never in all the time that he’s known Dean had a problem talking to him, but whenever Harry thinks about Draco his heart wants to jump out of his chest._ _

_ _“A question, huh?” Dean’s smile is wicked and knowing but Harry isn’t looking._ _

_ _“Yeah.” Harry looks at the single curl that has popped out of his hairdo and is currently laying against his forehead. He reaches for it, curling it around his finger and trying to figure out if he wants to put it back with the others._ _

_ _Suddenly, Dean’s hand is reaching up and grabbing onto his sleeve. Harry looks over, confusion written all over his face._ _

_ _“Were you going to ask me the question?”_ _

_ _Dean is clearly trying to keep from laughing, but it’s not working very well at all. Harry’s mad at the burning feeling in his face._ _

_ _“Right.” He clears his throat, working hard to keep himself from going for his hair again. “You’re pretty good friends with Blaise, right?”_ _

_ _A strange expressions crosses Dean’s face as he shifts his stance a bit. “Yeah, I’ve known him for a while. What’s wrong?”_ _

_ _Harry realizes he can’t quite answer the question, not really knowing if something’s wrong or not. He decides to turn away from the mirror and face Dean._ _

_ _“He asked me yesterday if I could get-uh…” Harry clears his throat, not too worried about being so weak in front of Dean but definitely not wanting this to happen for more than a few seconds. “He just asked if I could get D-Draco out of the way.”_ _

_ _Harry kicks himself for still stumbling over Draco’s name._ _

_ _Dean is smiling like crazy now, a chuckle taking over his throat every now and then._ _

_ _“Oh gods,” he starts, chuckling deeply. “Does he really like Neville like that?”_ _

Harry can’t believe it eithe- _wait, what?_

_ _“Does who… what?” Harry asks, looking at Dean with a confusion he can feel._ _

_ _Dean is cackling now, hand on the sink as he covers his mouth with his fist._ _

_ _“C’mon Harry,” He says in between laughing fits. “You’re not that thick, are you? Blaise is asking you to get rid of Draco now that he and Neville are spending so much time together. Why would he do that?”_ _

_ _Harry had been wondering the same thing; he’s still wondering it. This doesn’t make a lot of sense to him. Neville had been gone for almost a year, and now that he’s back Blaise has barely spent any time with him that Harry can tell. There was that one week where Blaise didn’t eat lunch with them at all, but Harry had figured he went off with Pansy and the rest of the Pink Ladies. Neville doesn’t eat with that lot, does he? And Blaise hasn’t been acting any differently-_ _

_ _“It would explain why he’s been acting so weird lately. And the fact that he hasn’t eaten with us as often as normal.”_ _

_ _Okay, now Harry is just mad. He isn’t _that_ oblivious._ _

_ _He just goes with it, wanting help with whatever is happening._ _

_ _“Right…” He’s slow to say it, prolonging the vowel in his confusion. “So… what should I do?”_ _

_ _Dean’s face twists a bit in what Harry assumes is thought, but he doesn’t know if he can say anything anymore._ _

_ _“Well, I think after the impression we left on him, there’s one thing that might make Draco want to be rid of Neville…”_ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _Hogwart’s Gym smells of sour sweat and strong deodorant. For once, Harry wishes someone would pull out a cigarette next to him; at least he can handle the smell of that for a second more than this. Yeah, sometimes the car garage gets a little musky after a long afternoon of auto body work, but at least there’s the smell of oil to combat the sharp smell of bodies._ _

_ _Harry looks around the gym with his sunglass-darkened vision, eyeing the many boys that are currently writhing on the ground in an attempt to… hold… each other…?_ _

_ _Harry believes this is wrestling. He was never quite taken by the sport, always believing it to be some strange version of fucking where you don’t get any real sensual contact. Why do this when he can just flirt with a guy on the side of the school after the bell rings and get his rocks off that way?_ _

_ _“Hello there.” Coach Hooch walks up to Harry, nearly intimidating with her tall and yellow-eyed presence. “You’re Harry Potter, yes?”_ _

_ _Harry gives a quick nod, refusing to move his hands from the back pockets of his jeans._ _

_ _“I’ve been wondering when I would get to see you. You never come to gym class.” Harry doesn’t like the chastising look in Hooch’s face, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Something about this woman’s stature makes him want to respect her tremendously._ _

_ _“Your father was an excellent athlete, you know.” Hooch begins again, tilting her chin down a little to look at Harry head on. “I’ve been excited to see the same kind of athleticism from you.”_ _

_ _At the mention of his father, Harry tenses. His hands immediately shoot up to smooth down his hair, as if his sudden anxiety spike has made it frizz._ _

_ _“Uh huh.” He supplies lamely, unsure of what to say._ _

_ _Hooch eyes him up and down extremely critically._ _

_ _“Well, first things first, you must change.”_ _

_ _Harry scoffs a bit, looking up to the light fixtures on the ceiling._ _

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To _change_.”

_ _Coach Hooch is unimpressed. “I mean your clothing, Mr. Potter.”_ _

_ _“Oh.” Harry gives an extremely _un_embarrassed nod of understanding._ _

_ _Hooch nods in gesture to the locker rooms on the other side of the gym. “You’ll need all of your mobility for the activities you’ll be doing Mr. Potter.”_ _

_ _“Well, y’know coach, you’d be surprised what kind of mobility-”_ _

“_Mister_ Potter.” Couch Hooch interrupts, voice sharp. She raises an unamused eyebrow.

_ _Harry nods, feeling a small burn on his cheeks as he walks over to the locker room. He swears he can hear Coach’s voice behind him say:_ _

_ _“Just like their little gang.”_ _

_ _~~~_ _

_ _Harry checks himself out in the mirror, doing his best to make the dumb PE clothes look decent on him. He hikes the light gray sweats up to his waist and tucks his white t-shirt into them, putting on some tube socks with red lines and black high top Converse shoes._ _

_ _“Looking good.” He nods to himself in the mirror, as he heads back out into the gym._ _

_I’m no square._

_ _~~~_ _

_ _No one believes it._ _

_ _Everyone is eyeing him up for reasons he’s never witnessed before, looking at him the way he and the guys look at the dorks of the school. He keeps his head high, though, keeping from making eye contact with anyone, not liking the way their critical stares make him feel._ _

_ _Coach Hooch talks him through some typical wrestling stances, allowing Harry to watch a match against two meathead wrestlers. He doesn’t do much watching of the skill, more looking at the way the two men move around each other and thinking about how akin it is to shagging. He knows these boys, knows them as the type to want to be real discrete about any kind of sexual encounters with him._ _

_ _Then it’s over, one boy pinning the other down and Harry thinks about how much he’d like to fight Draco and pin him down and then Hooch’s whistle is being blown and he’s being shoved towards the mat by a strong, warm hand._ _

_ _Harry holds his nerves down, sauntering around the boy on all fours on the ground, chuckling a bit to himself at the image this must create. He casually and silently appraises the boy he’s meant to wrestle, knowing he’s seen at least some part of this boy naked, and gets a heavy rush of excitement at the idea of being able to take him over. Harry leans down, grabbing the boy around the middle like he’s supposed to and then, as soon as the shrill sound of the whistle catches his ears, he’s being whisked off his knees and onto his back, the other boy climbing on top of him and sitting on him, holding Harry’s arms over his head on the ground. It sends an unpleasant rush through Harry’s body as he realizes what has just happened._ _

_ _Their wrestling continues for about 5 minutes and the wrestler’s give him shit for not being good enough to pin them. Something about the whole thing makes his hair stand on edge, as he knows all of these boys are the type to give him sickened looks while also falling hard for a blow job under the bleachers after school functions. It makes him mad that he can’t beat them; he figured after all of his experience with being on top that he could pin down a guy, no matter how broad. It’s just like sex, right? Maybe a little less consent to being pinned, but..._ _

_ _Harry calls uncle on his third failed attempt, only to have the boy lean down into his ear._ _

_ _“You’re not so tough now, are you Golden Boy? Think you’d be a good bottom?”_ _

_ _Harry knees the blond in the groin and pushes himself out from under him, stalking out of the gym and leaving the flailing and groaning boy behind._ _

_ _Coach Hooch runs after him, giving reassuring words that Harry lets fly over his head; all except for one:_ _

_ _“Your father had an awful time finding the sport for him, but he ended up being a star in it. It just takes time.”_ _

_ _And Harry’s eyes prickle as much as his wrists do from being pinned down for so long. He nods his head, agreeing to the statement and to the offer to come back tomorrow and try a different sport._ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _Draco’s sitting at their usual lunch table, pushing his food around, bored out of his skull, when he looks up to see Neville._ _

_ _His face lights up, and Draco assumes it’s just a trained reaction at this point. The two boys have made a pact to appear to “fancy” each other so as to make the true objects of their affections jealous. Draco thinks it’s working in spades, unaware of how a plan created by him could ever go wrong, but Neville hasn’t been as sure. After the scene at the soda fountain, Neville sweats any time Harry is around, and Blaise has been too busy grumbling for the past day or two to pay any real attention to Neville._ _

_ _Draco smiles at Neville, enjoying the faint blush that still rises to the boy’s cheeks, even as he smiles back calmly. The Pink Ladies have been very sweet to Neville whenever he joins them for lunch; Ginny being his teammate, Luna being a sweetheart, and Pansy being too tired with the whole thing to get upset over it and “cause early wrinkles”._ _

_ _So seeing Neville walking towards their table isn’t strange by any means. The boy eats with them any day he’s not off running around with Hermione doing something charitable for Hogwarts. She’ll join when she isn’t busy, but most of the time if Neville is here, he’s here alone._ _

What _does_ surprise Draco, however, is the fact that a leather clad dreamb-_douchebag_ is currently whisking Neville away, speaking in fast and hushed tones.

_ _Neville looks absolutely petrified upon being pulled away by Potter, and Draco is about to save him, just before Luna comes late to the table and busies him with questions about their homework._ _

_ _When Draco looks up, Neville is being ushered away, looking back at Draco. He’s ready to save his friend, rising up halfway out of his seat on the bench, when Neville gives a shy thumbs up._ _

_ _Confusion sets in as Draco lowers himself back down, listening absently to Ginny and Luna talk about when the first track meet will be._ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _The weather on that Wednesday evening is balmy as Coach Hooch leads Harry over to the basketball courts._ _

_ _“We’re going to give Mr. Potter here a tryout, alright gentlemen?”_ _

_ _Harry watches the other boys cower at Hooch and nod, before one of them throws the ball hard into Harry’s chest._ _

_ _“Watch yourself.” He warns, nearly losing grip on the ball in his hands._ _

_How do they hold it this way?_

_ _“Just put the ball in the basket, Mr. Potter.” Hooch’s voice isn’t condescending, but it might as well be. Harry rolls his eyes._ _

_ _“Yeah, I can do that.”_ _

_ _At the sound of Hooch’s whistle, Harry begins to bounce the ball like he’s seen others do. Truth be told, he’s always found basketball quite boring. They run back and forth and never get anything done, and now here he is, walking around so he can get close enough to the basket._ _

_Honestly, what’s the big deal about-_

_ _Suddenly, the ball is bouncing off of his foot and into the hands of another player, who begins to run with it. The other guys start to yell at him, pestering him to get the ball back. Angered, Harry pushes them away so he can run the boy with the ball down. He reaches him easily, but the boy’s too quick with his movements for Harry to get a good handle on the ball._ _

_ _So he aims his fist square into the boy’s stomach, then catches the ball out of the air as the boy doubles over towards the ground._ _

_ _Couch Hooch’s whistle blows. Harry lets go of the ball and reaches for his comb that he put in the waistband of his shorts, heavily irritated with the fact that he’s messed up his hair just to get a dumb ball._ _

_ _“Did I do it?” Harry asks, playing nonchalant and feeling it too._ _

_ _“Is he serious?” The boy doubled over chokes out. Harry eyes him irritatedly._ _

_ _“Let’s try another sport, shall we?” Couch Hooch sounds like she’s the one that’s been running around messing up her hair. Harry doesn’t particularly appreciate it._ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _The balmy weather brings a light and uncomfortable sweat to Blaise’s brow and neck. He doesn’t think he can attribute any of it to nerves and, even if he could, he would never tell anyone anyway._ _

_ _Even after perfecting his calm and cool exterior, Blaise is always a little concerned to walk into the garage. He and Ron have never been on the best terms for whatever reason, and it never really bothers Blaise, but the hostile energy is what gets him. Something about being so visibly disliked irks him in a way he never thought it would._ _

_ _Even so, it doesn’t typically stop him from going to the garage. While he loathes getting dirty and greasy, Blaise has always excelled at knowing how to manage and fix cars. He doesn’t touch things so much as he knows what to fix and how to fix it. From all of the men that have gone through his life, there have been more than a few who felt the need to bond with him over cars. As a kid, they did the same thing to him as he does to others now: told him what to do and made him do all the work._ _

_ _Needless to say, his mother was always quite upset at the idea of him ruining all of the nice clothes she bought for him. She quickly stopped dating men who were so into cars, only occasionally going after one who was rich enough to make up for the fact that he would get her son covered in oil by the time they were done with their “bonding” session._ _

_ _He hated them… But he certainly likes cars, and he especially likes the way Charlie talks about cars; like each one is an animal to be raised to its full potential and power. Plus, Charlie bent over a car examining the engine isn’t a bad sight to behold._ _

_ _It’s not the sight Blaise sees when he walks into the garage, however._ _

_ _Blaise walks into the warm garage and scans the area for Charlie, only to find Seamus and Dean and Ron and…_ _

_Neville_?

_ _And there Neville is, being doted on by Dean and Ron. He has a tight black t-shirt on that shows off his strong, broad shoulders very well but is currently being covered by Dean as he helps Neville slip on a T-Birds leather jacket. Blaise is almost upset at the idea that Neville gets a jacket before he does. Ron is sitting behind Neville on a table, fixing the boy’s hair into a rather nice ducktail (but when would he admit Ron is good at doing hair) that looks so handsome on Neville’s face that Blaise could cry._ _

_ _Blaise just watches; looks at the nervous smile Neville has on his face that doesn’t lack even a smidgen of charm and finds himself smiling too. It’s weird to feel his face get hot internally and being fully aware that it’s not because of the warmth inside the garage._ _

_ _“Sorry I’m late!” Comes an extremely loud voice behind him._ _

_ _Blaise feels a compact figure run into his shoulder and turns around to see Harry Potter storming in, face wet with sweat._ _

_ _“Hi Harry!” Everyone yells back in chorused response, including Neville who looks like he’s about to turn his head before Ron hits his shoulder for moving while his hair is being done._ _

_ _“Hi Blaise.” Harry looks at him expectantly, and perhaps with a bit of fear? Blaise is too surprised to take note of any nuances right now._ _

_ _Blaise grabs a tight hold of Harry’s arm and tugs him back, walking further away from the rest of the boys. His actions are in vain; they’re very far away and wouldn’t be able to hear his and Harry’s conversation over their excitable chatter, but Blaise doesn’t think about that._ _

_ _“What’s he doing here?” Blaise seethes into Harry’s face, pulling his face back quickly. “And why are you so sweaty?”_ _

_ _Harry rolls his eyes, but the blush that comes up over his tan face says more. “We got him out of the way, didn’t we?”_ _

_ _“What?” Blaise lets the confusion settle over his face._ _

_ _“If you want to see Neville, you’ll have to stop by more. I think he’ll be here more often now.” Harry’s giving him such a strange look that Blaise doesn’t have the energy to decipher right now. He’d rather just smack it off his face._ _

“Yes, but _why_?” Blaise asks, about ready to hit someone because being confused is not a pleasant feeling. Then Dean’s footsteps are coming towards him and he feels like the best idea at this point is to just leave and never come back because he doesn’t need this kind of public humiliation.

“Who does Draco Malfoy hate more than a group of degenerates?” Dean quips through a smirk. He gives Harry a light hit on the shoulder but Blaise isn’t even paying attention to either of them anymore because he has locked eyes with Neville and good fucking _lord_...

_ _He’s leaning up against the table that Ron is sitting on, facing to the left of the garage from Blaise’s perspective so he gets all of that gorgeous profile of his body, his arms are propped up behind him on the table and like hell if Blaise isn’t thinking about those strong arms all wrapped up around him. His jeans are black and tight and clearly fit his arse as well as anything could (except maybe Blaise’s hands…) because his arse looks absolutely delicious being pressed against the table. His facial structure looks so damn good with the ducktail hairdo that Blaise isn’t even going to pretend like Ron didn’t do a good job. Then again, a majority of the good job is on Neville’s genes that have worked to create this gorgeous man in front of Blaise._ _

Oh god, his face is going to _kill_ him… his mouth is in a small, shy smile and his eyebrows frame his chestnut brown eyes so gorgeously and those eyes are looking right at Blaise and Blaise is…

_Warm? Am I blushing?_

Blaise starts to chuckle nervously, and it makes him blush even harder and what the _hell_ is _happening_.

_Blaise Zabini does not blush!_

Neville’s smile turns less than shy and far more confident. He’s looking at Blaise with so much heat that Blaise can feel it from across the garage, his face turning even warmer. Blaise can see Neville’s broad shoulders shake a little bit and Blaise _swears_ if this boy is chuckling at _him_ he’s gonna curse out everyone in this room.

_ _Then, a force from behind Blaise makes him stumble forward._ _

“You going to ogle him all afternoon?” Dean’s voice asks with a light chuckle and it’s _very lucky_ that the person is Dean because Blaise was about to hurt someone.

_ _He straightens his shoulders out and saunters over, deaf to any conversations being held around him. He stops right in front of Neville, not even feeling the eyes of others as they bore into him._ _

_ _His luck returns._ _

_ _“H-h-hi Blaise.” Neville stutters, and if it isn’t the cutest thing then Blaise is willing to eat his shirt. Maybe Neville’s shirt…_ _

_ _“Hello there.” His voice is silk, he makes sure of it. It happens easily when someone this attractive is in front of him. “And how are you? Feel good to be all “greased up”?”_ _

_ _Blaise hears a choking sound and he thinks it comes from someone more than just Neville, but no one other than Neville means anything to him right now, so he ignores it._ _

_ _Neville is still stuttering like mad, that once confident little smirk completely dissolved into his soft lips moving nervously. Blaise wants to bite them to keep them in place._ _

He gives the boy his best lascivious look, about to ask if the cat’s got his tongue, before he feels _another_ completely _unwanted_ hand on him.

“C’mon casanova.” Charlie’s voice echoes in Blaises ear as he’s pulled towards the car. “You can bat your lashes at the pretty boy _after_ we’ve fixed up the car some more.”

_ _Blaise could curse everyone right now._ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _The following afternoon finds Harry on the baseball diamond with a bat in hand, and it doesn’t feel much better. He mimics what he’s seen, but all of the yelling is distracting to him. He doesn’t know who’s supposed to be on his side when everyone is yelling cruel things to him._ _

_ _Harry takes the baseball cap and pulls it right over his eyes, tilting his head up to look at the guy throwing the ball. He thinks it’s probably intimidating._ _

Suddenly, the ball is being hurled towards him, and he watches it fly by, confused as to how he’s supposed to knock that _thing_ out of the air.

_ _The boys heckle._ _

“You’re supposed to _swing_ the bat, grease monkey.”

_ _Harry doesn’t like that one bit, but he’s seen where hitting has gotten him so far, and it hasn’t felt very good._ _

_Just hit the ball, Harry._

_ _He bends his knees a little further, wiggles his hips a little wider, and swings as hard as he can when the next ball comes soaring by him._ _

_ _He doesn’t make contact._ _

_ _“The boy swings like a rusty gate!” The guy crouching yells out to the one throwing and Harry’s about to yell right back. Somehow, he finds some kind of strength within himself to keep his cool. He sneers, determined as all hell now to make contact._ _

_ _He gets himself back into position, wiggling his bat, staring the pitcher down, trying to be as intimidating as possible. He knows he’s scary, and he doesn’t see why it should be any different out here on this dumb patch of grass and dirt._ _

_ _The pitcher winds up fast, and Harry’s ready this time._ _

_ _Except… the ball flies too fast and Harry barely sees it. The force of the wind as it flies past him nearly knocks his glasses off, but he swings. It’s a little late… okay, it’s a lot late. The catcher makes sure he’s fully aware of it._ _

_ _“You’re out, greaseball! Are all 4 of those eyes of yours blind?”_ _

The loser is actually _cackling_ and Harry has had just about enough of this. He turns around and bonks the boy on the top of the helmet, causing him to slip and fall right onto his ass, holding his helmet down to stop it from shaking. When more boys come to square up, he holds the bat out in a threat.

_ _“Alright, alright, put it down!” Hooch comes running over, reaching out for Harry and getting the bat out of his hands before steering him away from the field._ _

_ _“You know, Mr. Potter, some sports don’t require any kind of contact with others at all! Like track.”_ _

_ _Harry perks up at the thought, knowing Neville is on the track team. He then realizes the implication._ _

_ _“Wait, you mean like just… running?”_ _

_ _“Well, it would be more than ‘just running’, Mr. Potter. Track requires a lot of stamina. There’s long distance running or cross country running… Your father happened to be very good with short sprints, if I remember correctly.”_ _

_ _Harry prickles again at the mention of his father, and then begins to feel a strangely uncomfortable and warm feeling when thinking about him on the field. He wishes he could have seen it, all of the students cheering his dad on as he won races…_ _

_ _“Yeah…” Harry begins, mind far away. “Yeah, that could be cool, I guess.”_ _

_ _“Perfect, we’ll start on Monday. Give yourself the weekend, Mr. Potter.”_ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _On Friday night, Draco and Blaise are wandering at the back of the pack of girls into Luna’s… quirky home._ _

_ _They head up to her room, Draco playing with his earring absentmindedly. He lets his eyes wander to her wall of drawings, smiling a bit when he sees the one with him in it. His eyes betray him and wander to the drawings with Harry in them. His smile is sweet, but doesn’t do the real smile justice…_ _

“So, how is the _love of your life_?”

_ _Pansy’s voice startles Draco, but he thinks it’s more the actual words she’s saying that catch him off guard._ _

_ _He turns quickly. Pansy is leaning over the bed with her head resting on her hands, poised elegantly and giving Ginny a viciously teasing stare. Ginny waves Pansy away while laughing a little laugh Draco still hasn’t gotten quite used to._ _

_ _“Will you cut it out?”_ _

“Come on, tell me _all_ about him!” Pansy gives Ginny a little poke on her arm, and Ginny waves the girl away again, gathering her paper and holding it away from Pansy. “Your sweet love!”

_ _Pansy is cackling and Ginny is laughing right along with her._ _

_ _“I just think he’s handsome!” Ginny practically shouts between breaths, still laughing._ _

_ _“Right…” Pansy rolls her eyes and extends the vowel in disbelief. Her smirk never fades._ _

_ _Draco hopes his confusion isn’t showing on his face. Luna looks over to Draco, giggling a bit. Draco assumes she’s giggling because of the silliness of the girls and not because of his confusion._ _

_ _“He’s coming to our school!”_ _

_ _Now he knows he’s visibly confused. “Who?”_ _

“The fabulous and stunning and _magical_ Gilderoy Lockhart!” Pansy fake swoons, leaving up against Ginny and turning to make kissy faces at her. Ginny hasn’t stopped laughing.

_ _“Shove off, good gods!” She pushes Pansy away, who stands up and straightens out her tight black skirt. “You can’t tell me the man isn’t handsome!”_ _

_ _“For a dinosaur?” Pansy taps a manicured nail to her bottom lip in thought. “Quite!”_ _

_ _Ginny tosses a small pillow at her, and she catches it quickly before dropping it to the ground and inspecting her nails._ _

_ _“He’s only 28, you witch!”_ _

Pansy purses her lips. “Yes, and you’re not even 17 yet. Let’s take a second to think about that, shall we?” Pansy feigns serious consideration before her lips widen into a smirk. “Actually, I believe his face would look even _prettier_ behind bars.”

“Could you _please_ fuck off? Good gods!” Ginny’s statement is good natured, and so is Pansy’s middle finger.

“Alright, well can we talk about a couple that _doesn’t_ make me want to throw up?” Pansy’s gaze turns to Draco, her smirk small but her eyes vicious. “Your sweet little Neville has become a greaser, hasn’t he?”

_ _Draco’s heart stutters a bit, confused about the statement and his own reaction. “He isn’t mine.” He feels a little indignant at the thought that he owns the sweet boy. “I’m not even attracted to him in that way.”_ _

_ _And it’s true, he’s not. Neville is a damn dashing boy, but Draco hasn’t even thought about being attracted to the boy in a romantic way. He’s kind and lovely to look at and fun to talk to, but he doesn’t give Draco the same kind of challenge that he looks for in a relationship._ _

_ _Pansy’s eyebrow is arched high in question, but it’s Blaise’s face that Draco is most interested in. It’s almost blank, but his eyes are a little wider than normal and his gaze is unfading._ _

_ _“So he eats lunch with us just for fun?”_ _

Draco scoffs gracefully. “He eats lunch with _me_ because he enjoys my company.”

“And what makes you so sure of _that_?” Pansy asks, an amused smile on her face.

_ _“Because I’m a damn pleasure to be around.” Draco shrugs one shoulder in nonchalance, and Pansy laughs fondly._ _

_ _“How could I think anything but?” Pansy asks through a fond smile. Draco’s only known the girl for a few months, but he thinks it’s a rather rare occurrence._ _

_ _“In fact…” Draco continues, eyeing Blaise mischievously. “Neville’s actually helping me with something. I’m trying to get someone else. Lord only knows why I want him, but Neville is helping me get him by making him jealous. And it seems to be working.” Draco feels like he has to keep talking to get over the fluttering of his heart. He looks to Blaise and smirks at the surprised face he sees. “I don’t have any romantic attraction to Neville Longbottom.”_ _

_ _Blaise blinks a couple of times. Draco has to hold back a laugh._ _

_ _In the next second, the roar of an engine comes from out on the street. Everyone turns to look at the window. Hermione merely tilts her head a bit from her seat on the windowsill, but doesn’t give the sound any mind._ _

_ _Luna is the first one to head over, followed by Ginny and Pansy. Draco and Blaise pull up the rear, able to look over the girls’ heads and out the window rather easily._ _

_ _It’s that hunk of junk that Potter and his friends drive. Draco refuses to pay attention to the fluttering of his heart at the sight of Potter’s brunet topped head._ _

_ _“It’s just the little greasy idiots.” Pansy drawls, moving back to her spot at Luna’s vanity. Blaise fills in Pansy’s spot and makes an attempt to get a good look at Neville. Or Draco assumes._ _

_ _From what Draco can see, the boys have pulled into Luna’s driveway. They just sit there, talking to each other. The redhead (Weasley? Must be related to Ginny with that hair) is the one driving, with Dickhead in the passenger seat. The other three are in the back, including Neville. The little angry one pushes himself up to sit on the back of the seat._ _

_ _“Oh! The boys!” Luna kneels on the seat next to her windowsill and peeks her head out the window. “They won’t be able to come up, I haven’t told my father they were coming, but I wonder what they want?”_ _

_ _Ginny’s disgruntled noises fly past Draco’s ears as she heads to her bag. “Who gives a flying fuck? Fred and George gave me some more liquor, we can drink and listen to music. And drink some more.”_ _

_ _Draco eyes her pulling a thermos out of her bag. Suddenly, Blaise is huffing and slipping his pink ladies jacket onto his shoulders._ _

_ _“Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m going to get my kicks while I’m still young enough to get them.” Draco locks eyes with the taller boy and watches his eyes twinkle. Draco smiles._ _

_ _Then Blaise is opening the window more and climbing out of it._ _

_ _“Blaise!” Hermione yells, sitting up and leaning her head out the window. “For heaven’s sake…” She mutters under her breath, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. “Blaise! Please!”_ _

_ _Draco turns to Pansy, who’s looking at her friend wandering towards the edge of the roof with mirth in her eyes._ _

_ _“What’s the boy going to do, shimmy down the drain pipe?” Ginny asks, amusement and exhaustion in her voice. She’s now by the window as well, peeking out above Luna and Hermione._ _

_ _“I think that’s exactly what he’s doing.” Pansy laughs, looking utterly amused as Blaise begins to climb down the front of Luna’s house. Draco thinks he remembers a lattice on the front of the house, and assumes that what Blaise is currently descending on._ _

_ _“I do hope he doesn’t injure himself.” Luna admits as she peeks her head higher. “But Blaise seems rather graceful!”_ _

_ _“Blaise please be careful!” Hermione has absolutely no calm in her voice as she now yells into the night, since Blaise’s head is completely gone past the edge of the roof. She turns back to the rest of the room, headful of curls flying and falling in her face. “He hasn’t had anything to drink, has he?”_ _

_ _Draco can’t help the smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, Hermione, I’m sure he’ll make it down. If anything, he’s as tall as a mountain, so the fall is shorter for him.”_ _

_ _Hermione’s face is not convinced in the slightest. In fact, her eyebrows furrow even further and it makes Draco chuckle a bit._ _

_ _They all look out the window again to see Blaise walking up to the car._ _

_ _~*~_ _

_ _Blaise lands on the ground in a graceful, solid landing. He straightens up, brushing off his white t shirt and then turns his gaze to the car._ _

And like _hell_ if that doesn’t make Neville’s heart beat ferociously.

_ _Blaise strides over to the car, all confident smirks and looks and his broad shoulders sway in that confident and attractive as fuck way as they always do and Neville’s eyes won’t look away. He’s staring at Blaise like he’s starving and he can feel it in his eyes. Blaise is looking right back with the same kind of heat Neville feels and he swears he could faint from how hot it’s getting._ _

_ _“Wow Blaise!” Seamus pipes up from the top of the seat next to Neville and his voice is loud enough to knock Neville out of his head. “That’s the most exercise I’ve seen you do in a while!”_ _

_ _Blaise gives the boy the most deadpan look Neville has ever seen. “Ha ha. Funny one you are.”_ _

_ _Then those brown eyes are back on Neville and the heat is back and just as intense and Neville’s heart begins to melt on the spot._ _

“Hello there, Neville.” Blaise practically purrs and even his voice sounds molten and seductive and Neville’s body betrays him _real_ quick.

_ _“H-hi Blaise.” Neville stutters, flustered as all hell to be getting hard next to his friends. Can anyone really blame him at this point?_ _

And his eyes are locked with Blaise until the tall and dark boy turns to look at the passenger side seat. Neville takes the chance to eye Blaise a bit more, but, remembering his… _predicament_... he turns his head down to his shoes instead and wills his body to cooperate.

_ _“How’s it, Harry?” Blaise’s voice comes, a little more amused than it had been when he spoke to Neville._ _

_ _Harry’s voice begins to stutter in what sounds like confusion. “Uh huh, hi Blaise.” He sounds bored and irritated and Neville isn’t really used to the sound. No one speaks for a few seconds, and Neville looks up to Harry to see his eyebrows furrowed in extreme confusion. “You look well.” Harry begins again, and it sounds like an admission._ _

“Just well?” Blaise asks, and there’s a poisonous smile that Neville can hear in his voice. He doesn’t think it’s safe to turn and look at the boy. “Not looking for anything specific, Harry? Don’t… _miss_ anything of mine?”

_ _Blaise sounds like he’s purring again, but it’s sick and twisted this time. Neville’s face gets a little warmer uncontrollably at the sound._ _

_ _Neville hears Harry begin to shift around a bit, grumbling to himself before he responds. “Y’know, contrary to popular belief, sloppy seconds aren’t really my style.” Harry’s voice is an absolute growl before he pushes himself up and hops out of the car._ _

_ _Neville’s head swims harshly at the words. He waits for Blaise to deny something, but when he arches his head up at the tall boy to gauge his reaction, he just sees spited anger._ _

_ _“And where are you going?” Blaise hisses poison. “Gonna get your rocks off by yourself?”_ _

_ _“I’d rather do that than hang out with you lot.” Harry throws back to the car before he turns quickly and walks away just as fast._ _

_ _Neville is utterly lost, flicking his eyes over to the two boys next to him to see the same kind of confusion on their faces. Then he turns to Blaise and gets warm again at the color that has shown up on the handsome boy’s dark face. He knows the boy is feeling slightly embarrassed and Neville himself feels a little embarrassed to be so turned on by Blaise’s reaction._ _

_ _It takes a second for Neville to take notice of the state of his body (read: dick) and in the next second he’s leaning forward, putting his head up to the left side of Ron so that he can face away from Blaise as he asks his question._ _

_ _“Can I borrow the car?” It’s rushed and his breath feels too hot and it’s out of his mouth before he can think with his proper head. “Please?” He sounds utterly desperate to his own ears and he’s okay with that at this point._ _

_ _“What?” Ron sputters, confused and searching Neville’s face in a way that usually makes his heart race in anxiety._ _

_ _Neville turns his head a bit towards Blaise. He doesn’t know how to indicate what he wants to, but he thinks Ron gets it when he sees his face twist into disgust._ _

_ _“Seriously?”_ _

_ _Neville’s heart is racing and he feels even more embarrassed for asking his friend for his car but his brain isn’t thinking for his words at this point._ _

“Please Ron? I just… I need… I feel…” The words don’t come out how he wants them. They’re barely words, just rushed whispers of a desperate boy who’s heart is so full and he realizes it really is his heart. Along with _other things_ his heart is flooding and overflowing and he can feel his chest heaving at the thought of being alone with Blaise in a car and being intimate and romantic.

_ _The desperation must show in his eyes. He’s unaware of how he could ever hold it at bay at this point because he needs this so badly and Ron is looking at him like he murdered Neville’s pet._ _

_ _Neville isn’t the kind of person to use the last year of his life as a way of getting what he wants, but he isn’t going to stop this from happening now. He knows Ron knows what has happened in the last year. Neville is very close to Ginny after being on the track team with her for the past few years, and thus confides in her when he needs to. Or, he’ll hint at things and sometimes he’ll do that when Ron is present because it’s hard to get any solitary moment, especially in the Weasley home. And Ron is such a good friend that Neville began to confide in him as well, even before he became a T-Bird to get at Blaise._ _

_ _So the sadness that flashes in Ron’s eyes isn’t a surprise to Neville. He doesn’t particularly like it, but it isn’t a surprise._ _

_ _Ron also rolls his eyes, and Neville knows Ron is fully aware that Neville only joined the T-Birds so he and Blaise could get together._ _

_ _“Fine. I’m not going to cock block you.” Ron’s voice is tired, but he gives Neville a little smile and Neville’s heart starts running away._ _

_ _“Thank you.” Neville whispers to his friend, but he could kiss him from how happy he is._ _

_ _Ron shakes his head, a small smile on his face still as he jumps out of the car and at the feet of Blaise._ _

_ _“If anything happens to my car, you answer to me.” Ron threatens in Blaise’s face. Neville can’t look at Blaise for fear of exploding. Blaise doesn’t answer, but Neville can just imagine the smirk he’s giving._ _

_ _Ron walks around to the right side of the car and opens up the back door._ _

_ _“C’mon mates, let’s go.”_ _

_ _“Where are we going?” Seamus asks as he follows Dean out of the car. He looks extremely confused as Ron closes the car door and starts to walk away._ _

_ _“Wanna grab some pizza? I’m starved.” Ron turns around to look at the two boys._ _

_ _The three of them wander away and Neville thinks he hears Ron offering to pay for all three of them so he’s not a complete third wheel, but right now he’s leaning against the car and smiling at Blaise._ _

_ _Blaise’s look is heated as he walks towards Neville and stands above him. He’s only a few inches taller, but his confidence dwarfs Neville._ _

_ _“R-ready?” Neville heart is fluttering again._ _

_ _“Ready for what exactly, Neville?” Blaise asks, a gorgeous smirk on his face that makes Neville’s body roar to life again._ _

_ _“Whatever you want.” Neville sounds desperate again, and he’s okay with it because he is. He’s hopelessly desperate._ _

_ _~*~_ _

_ _Blaise gets into the passenger side of the car and puts his arm around the driver’s side seat where Neville is sitting. They drive away and Draco is far more ecstatic for the boys than he thought he would be._ _

_ _He got to watch it all as Neville clearly got distracted by his own wants and convinced the red-head to give him his car so he could hoe around with Blaise for the night. Draco wants to give him a standing ovation._ _

_ _Then Draco looks towards the trees on the left side of Luna’s house and almost loses himself again._ _

_ _He nearly missed the whole thing as he watched Potter say something to the boys and wander away. Blaise can never keep his damn mouth shut. Draco knows it. He wonders what he did to cause the dickhead to walk away._ _

_ _Pansy scoffs and pulls Draco out of himself._ _

_ _“The boy actually did it. Wow.”_ _

_ _Draco doesn’t know which one she’s talking about but he smiles to himself anyway._ _

_ _“Yes he did. I never doubted it though.” Draco admits, turning his smile to her and she’s laughing a bit to herself as she looks out the window._ _

_ _When she turns her gaze to him, there’s too much mischief in her eye than he wants to see._ _

_ _Hermione is breathing gently now as Luna pats her shoulder and speaks some kind of nonsense to her softly. They move back into the rest of the room, where they join Ginny on the bed and begin to look at some kind of magazine covered in stars and constellations. Ginny is writing a letter again._ _

_ _Pansy is still eyeing Draco up and every second that passes by makes him more on edge._ _

_ _“What?” He finally asks, giving in to the anxiety and irritation._ _

_ _She hums quietly, her smirk getting a little smaller._ _

_ _“Nothing.” She responds simply. It aggravates Draco even more. He wanders towards Ginny to get away from it._ _

_ _“What are you writing?” He asks as he sits down on the big comfy chair next to Luna’s bed._ _

_ _She looks up in surprise. “Just some letters.”_ _

_ _“To her one and true love.” Pansy mocks. “And we know it’s true because she never wrote our dear Harry any letters.”_ _

_ _Ginny takes a leaf of paper and crumples it up and chucks it at Pansy, hitting her shoulder. Pansy takes hold of her shoulder in mock horror._ _

“And what would Harry even _do_ with a letter?” Ginny asks, eyeing Pansy irritatedly before turning back to her letter.

_ _Pansy shrugs gracefully and leans a hip on Luna’s vanity. “Blow his nose?”_ _

_ _Luna giggles. Draco scoffs._ _

_ _“And what about you?” Pansy asks and Draco knows it’s too pointed to not be aimed towards him. He looks up to see Pansy’s venomous gaze._ _

_ _He thinks she’s going to say more, but she leaves him hanging there. Even Hermione is peeking up from her confused look at the magazine Luna has given her to look at._ _

_ _“What about me?” He asks, his heart beating uncomfortably fast._ _

_ _“Chosen One gets around with his little heartbreaking ways.” Pansy continues, as if that makes any real sense to him. She’s examining her nails again and Draco knows it means she’s getting self conscious about what’s she’s saying. “Surprised?”_ _

_ _Draco scoffs. “I’m sure I’m not the first to be hurt by Potter’s clumsy emotions.” He looks down at Ginny, whos’ writing furiously. “Obviously I’m not.”_ _

_ _Ginny’s writing falters, but she doesn’t look up at Draco. He knows he’s not the first to have a hard time getting over the boy either. Ginny never seems unfriendly around Harry when they’re together. In fact, they seem rather close when they’re with each other in person. It’s usually when Pansy teases Ginny about them being romantic that Ginny gets defensive and upset. It makes Draco think that whatever happened, it wasn’t pretty, and it’s left Ginny with a sense of anger she still can’t get over. He doesn’t necessarily blame her for it, and they seem to be friends when Pansy isn’t pushing her buttons about him, but it still bothers Draco all the same. He doesn’t want to become that vindictive._ _

_ _Then he thinks of all of the people Potter must have hurt in the past. The trail of broken hearts he’s left. The trail of hearts he’s touched._ _

_ _The air from the open window is harshly cold and Draco is sure his own feeling doesn’t help with the mix._ _

“I’m sure _everyone_ has had their taste of _Saint Potter_.” Draco continues.

“Saint?” Ginny asks, finally looking up with a perplexed look on her face. “After the way he treated you? I doubt he can be called a _saint_.”

“Oh surely he can, with the way he acts. Expecting everyone to get on their bloody knees and beg for him.” Draco ignores the blush on Ginny’s face. “Wonderful _Potter_ with his stupid hair and his damn emerald eyes and his distracting lips and-”

_ _“Careful,” comes Pansy, a bored tone in her voice that’s put into question by the utter amusement in her eyes as she gives Draco a very pointed look. “I doubt your entire heart can fit on your skinny, cashmere sleeve. Stop trying to make it.”_ _

_ _She takes a sip of the alcohol Ginny brought and Draco gives Pansy the scowl meant for her as well as the one meant for the blush now growing on his face._ _

_ _“Tell me,” Draco begins, trying to keep his cool even with his blush refusing to leave, “is it customary for you to always be such a raging bitch?”_ _

_ _Draco can feel the air get tight in the room but he keeps Pansy’s stare. Her eyes widen in apparent shock as she lowers the thermos and swallows hard. Draco quirks an eyebrow and something dark shows up in Pansy’s eyes… before she starts smirking, and now he’s smirking too, and she gives him a slow nod of appreciation before taking another swig of the alcohol and then handing it over to Ginny._ _

_ _Ginny sits up to take the thermos, and the laughter he thought he would see in the freckled girl is entirely absent. Instead there’s an intense fire that Draco is still so unused to seeing._ _

_ _“Look, Draco… I think you’d be a fool if you didn’t just forget him.” Ginny says while giving Draco an all-knowing look before casting her gaze downward. Draco is confused to see a flash of sadness cross her face, but doesn’t care enough to continue looking, especially when Luna starts to flap around a bit to her side._ _

_ _“No! Draco, you can’t let go!” He looks to her, her face a mix of worry and excitement. “You have to hold on to the end!”_ _

_ _He scoffs, his face relaxing into a smirk. “Oh, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”_ _

_ _“Seriously?” Pansy asks, disbelief in her voice. “You’re still giving that prick your time?”_ _

_ _Draco shrugs in response. It’s not the kind of response he’d prefer to give, but he doesn’t know what to say. He does feel like a fool for it. He’s an outright fool every night as he sits in his room and stares out the window as the birds fly to their nests to get warm. He’s absolutely mental as he feels the nights turn colder and colder and yearns for those big arms that kept him warm at the end of the summer. As he keeps his window open and his fireplace off so that he isn’t reminded of the warm summer nights he spent with those bright green eyes, he’s a lunatic. He’s lost all sanity._ _

_ _And he’ll never admit that to anyone._ _

_ _So he shrugs again when no one says anything._ _

_ _Luna coos a bit. Draco turns to look at her and sees a comforting smile._ _

_ _“I think that a relationship between the two of you would be absolutely lovely! It makes sense for a Scorpio to be so hopelessly devoted to others, and hopelessly jealous as well.” Luna giggles again. “You are a Scorpio, right Draco?”_ _

_ _“... yes… How did you know that?”_ _

_ _“And Harry is a Leo!” Luna continues brightly. “So it makes sense that he would act this way, what with his pride. You just need to allow him to have it for a second before you put him in his place.”_ _

_ _Draco shifts his eyes to the other girls, trying to get some kind of help from anyone else. They offer none._ _

_ _“And being a Leo, Harry needs a lot of attention. He thinks his image is more important than it really is so he works very hard to maintain that. It doesn’t help that his friends have made him feel that way too. But I think you’ll be able to push through that silliness soon! Just wait a bit more!”_ _

_ _Luna sounds like a wizened wizard, if said wizard had reversed his age and turned into a soft spoken girl._ _

_ _She gives Draco a smile that he can’t ignore, so he just smiles back at her. He’s utterly lost, but it’s okay. He lets her talk to him about the zodiac and everything she says makes sense._ _

_ _It’s odd, but it makes sense._ _

_ _~~*~~_ _

_ _The drive to Make Out Point is absolutely torturous. Neville has operated through some unfavorable situations with a hard on before, but this is by far the most dangerous one._ _

_ _As distracting as it is, Neville has very good control over his sense of focus, even when he’s hard. That all goes down the drain when a very hot boy decides he wants to stroke Neville through his trousers._ _

_ _Which is exactly what Blaise has been doing their entire drive._ _

_ _The second time Neville swerves, he whines in frustration._ _

_ _“We’re going to die if you aren’t careful.” Neville murmurs through gritted teeth, white knuckles on the steering wheel as he makes sure not to let his foot get too heavy on the pedal._ _

_ _“I better be careful then, huh?” Blaise asks in a poisonous tone. He reaches his hand out again and Neville is thankful for the light they hit._ _

_ _Neville takes Blaise’s right hand with his left one and holds it away from his crotch, utilizing all of the strength that he has been able to keep in his body._ _

_ _“Please, I don’t want to die before we get there. Or worse, wreck Ron’s car.” He looks at Blaise with a desperation in his voice that he knows he’d never be able to hide._ _

_ _Blaise chuckles, the mischief gleaming brightly in his eyes._ _

_ _“Don’t worry about your sweet skin, love, I’ll be sure to take good care of it.” Blaise winks. Neville short circuits._ _

_ _It takes someone honking behind them to realize the light has turned green. Neville jumps a bit and lets go of Blaise’s wrist so he can turn back to the road._ _

_ _As the rest of their drive goes on, Blaise leans over into Neville’s ear, petting the boy’s side gently as he whispers huskily to him. It’s not even anything particularly dirty, per se, but the confidence and tone of his voice just oozes an intense kind of sex. It’s making Neville’s whole body warm and raw and pliant. He’s slipping into a zone of lust and want that he didn’t think was possible._ _

_ _He’s complimenting Neville. Praising him like he’s the most glorious being to walk the earth; like he’s the only thing in Blaise’s sight. He’s purring out compliments, with talk of his eyes and his hair and his gorgeous body and the way that it moves as he runs his mile. He makes little jokes about what his endurance must be like; wonders aloud if it’s as good as he supposes it might be from all of that long-distance running. He moans out praises about the muscles that flex under his gorgeous skin._ _

When they finally get to their destination, Neville has been nearly talked to climax, and he feels absolutely ridiculous for it. Just the energy and confidence and absolute _sex_ that exudes off of this boy next to him is enough to make him harder than he’s ever been in his life. Neville damns his friends for forcing him into these ridiculously tight jeans.

He’s glad for the convertible top that they’ve put up because he throws the car into park, rips his seatbelt off, and sits there, breathing heavily, flushed like the deed is done already. It’s like he’s just finished that mile Blaise was talking about. He feels the intense need to collect himself. It’s as if he’s become a puddle on the seat of the car, absolutely melted and pliant to Blaise. He can’t even _look_ at the boy though because he’s so overwhelmed and it’s awkward but the car is hot and Blaise is hot and Neville feels so hot…

_ _“Nev? Love?” Blaise whispers gently next to him and it jolts Neville’s body awake yet again._ _

He turns quickly, looking at Blaise and _damn_ he’s a sight. He’s always a sight, but those deep and dark brown eyes of his are so soft right now and it’s making Neville dizzier than the compliments were. He has a small smile on his face and it’s genuine and a lot less poisonous than it typically is. There’s care and calm and _lust_ and Neville feels like his heart might be _glowing_ from deep inside his chest.

_ _“Hi.” Neville says after a long pause of near breathless silence._ _

_ _He feels like a fool. Blaise chuckles, just as gently as his eyes are. Neville doesn’t fully realize how close they are to each other until he feels the soft and fresh breath of Blaise on his lips. It’s faint._ _

_ _“Hello love.” Blaise all but purrs onto Neville’s lips, inching forward just a tad. “How are you this fine evening?”_ _

_ _“Uhm-” Neville begins, softly. He knows if he had uttered more than one syllable, his voice would have cracked. His breath still hasn’t fully returned as he flicks his eyes from Blaise’s lips to his eyes and back again._ _

_ _This isn’t his first kiss. He may be bashful, but he’s kissed people before. Albeit, they were often shy and fleeting. A lot of them came from this past year when his world was tossed into emotional turbulence. And even though he’s a very shy and quiet boy, he’s never been this nervous about a kiss; not even his first one._ _

But this… this is _Blaise Zabini_; the hottest boy to walk onto their campus. Neville doesn’t even think it’s arguable at this point. He’s tall and undeniably handsome and the energy he gives off just screams sex bomb. Neville gets nervous just being in his line of sight sometimes. And being in this car with him, so close, the two of them leaning closer and closer-

“Relax.” Blaise whispers, and it’s caring. Neville could actually melt from how _caring_ he’s being. It feels so uncharacteristic. Neville’s mind briefly wanders away, wondering if Blaise is like this with the other people he’s been intimate with but he can’t think on that too much because suddenly he’s being kissed and good gods it’s _beautiful_.

Blaise’s lips are so _soft_. Any and all breath Neville once had in his lungs is now gone, lost to the gorgeous mouth of one Blaise Zabini. He’s not swimming in the moment so much as drowning in the feeling of their lips pressed together, moving slowly and carefully.

_ _It’s not a brief kiss. It extends long enough to have Neville worry fleetingly about his health because having this lack of oxygen for such a long period of time can’t be good. It just can’t._ _

Blaise pulls away for a split second, his smile ghosting over Neville’s lips and there’s teeth there and it lights a _fire_ in him- as if the car wasn’t already too damn hot -because damn is that sexy and endearing as all hell.

_How does one be both sexy and endearing?_

_ _When Blaise is kissing Neville again, Neville is all fervor and passion and desire. He can’t help it. He had his first taste and he wouldn’t dream of getting away from it. Fuck breathing, he can share the oxygen Blaise seems so willing to give him and he’ll be damn grateful for it, thank you very much._ _

_ _When Blaise moves to pull away this time, Neville leans forward. He can’t have this end. Every second they spend apart feels like a second where he’s going to wake up from this wonderful dream._ _

_ _Blaise chuckles, putting a hand out and running it from Neville’s neck and all the way down to his wrist, touching him all the while._ _

_ _“Let’s move to the back of the car, shall we?” Blaise propositions and Neville nods without thinking._ _

Letting go of Blaise and getting out of the car is almost more tortuous than the ride over here. As Neville steps out into the crisp air, he thinks this _definitely_ feels worse than Blaise handling his clothed erection while driving. It feels like the cold, crisp air of the night is knocking him to his senses. He suddenly feels like he can’t do this; that this is crazy. He feels like there was a _reason_ all of this was a dream in the first place, and that maybe it should stay there. If he runs away right now, he won’t have to face whatever terrors the night might bring. Whatever fears or disappointments.

_ _While he’s out of the car, Neville can run away. He can put all of that track training to good use and high tail it out of here on his track and field legs that are…_ _

_ _Turning to mush as he eyes Blaise sitting in the back seat of the car, rubbing his erection through his jeans and arching his long back gracefully. _ _

_ _Neville gets in the car, bumping his hand on the door before shutting it harshly. His knees and torso are facing forward in his seat as well as his gaze. He takes a quick breath to collect himself, his heart running like he’s just finished a 5000 metre race. Blaise’s thigh is touching Neville’s own and it’s entirely too distracting for a clothed thigh to be._ _

_ _Neville turns his head to find heat and passion and desire and Neville feels like he’s going to faint from exhaustion: heat exhaustion, sexual exhaustion, whatever it is Neville is 100% gone._ _

_ _Blaise is the one to start it, leaning on his right hand and putting his left one on the right side of Neville’s right thigh. He pulls Neville around to face him, gently caressing his thigh in the process._ _

_ _“Relax, love. Are you sure you’re alright?”_ _

_ _“F-Fine.” Neville responds all too quickly and like a fucking moron._ _

_I’m practically in the lap of the hottest boy in school and I’m still acting like a damn loser_.

_ _Blaise’s chuckle sends him out of his thoughts again, however. It’s low and seductive and his eyes have all of the care in the world as far as Neville can tell._ _

_ _“I’m glad, love. Really wouldn’t want your first time to be unpleasant.” Blaise says, leaning in with each word he speaks until their noses are touching and they’re a breath away and Neville can’t see the concerned furrow of Blaise’s brows because they’re kissing. It’s slow and sensual and strong. Neville reaches for Blaise like he has nothing left; like he’s drowning and Blaise is his anchor._ _

_ _But that’s not entirely accurate, is it? Perhaps a better analogy would be that Neville is sinking and Blaise is the one dragging him further into the depths of sex and desire._ _

_ _He’s okay with either._ _

_ _Blaise picks up the pace, grabbing onto Neville’s thigh and squeezing it hard as he puts more force into the kiss. It’s hot and heavy, the same way Neville’s cock feels right about now, and Neville really does have no oxygen left in his lungs as he does his best to reciprocate the intensity and desire. It’s not like he’s lacking in either of those things at the moment._ _

_ _Blaise pulls away, slightly out of breath but leaving Neville panting and feeling absolutely wrecked._ _

_ _“How was that?”_ _

_ _Neville whines a bit, trying not to be too upset with himself as he can’t find his words. He’s significantly less upset with himself when Blaise begins to chuckle again._ _

_ _“Good. Want to keep my little love happy.” Blaise is still caressing Neville’s thigh sensually. The same kind of restraint can’t be said for Neville, who is grasping for what he can reach, digging into Blaise’s shirt, letting his hands run down a firm and slender chest, grabbing hold of a thin waist and moving down lower onto the tight jeans that Neville is unsure how they’re going to get off in this small space but damn if he isn’t going to try._ _

_ _They’re kissing again, Blaise’s tongue licking at Neville’s lips but Neville isn’t having any of that shit because he’s hungry and needs to be sated._ _

_ _Neville opens his mouth, but he slips his tongue into Blaise’s mouth , ravaging him as best he can with the desperation in his blood. He slips his hands underneath Blaise’s thighs and uses his leverage to pull the boy over and on top of him, placing his thigh inbetween Blaise’s legs so he and Neville can feel the other’s erections through their jeans. He never lets their kiss break, continuing his onslaught of kisses and passion and revelling in the little noises Blaise is making in his throat as they make out._ _

_ _Blaise pulls away again, his pupils blown wide with desire as he sends a shocked little smirk down to Neville._ _

_ _Neville can’t help but busy himself with admiring the boy almost on top of him as his face very clearly turns a bright red. He runs his hands over the fit torso and runs his eyes over every bit his hands aren’t touching in the moment. He might become obsessed if he isn’t careful._ _

_ _“Desperate for something, love?” Blaise asks on a moan, still with that sexy smirk on his lips._ _

_ _Neville whimpers in response. He barely has enough time and energy to feel silly for it because his hips are moving against Blaise’s leg and he’s finally gaining that pleasure he’s been seeking out all night. All year. All of high school, really._ _

“Give me a sec, Nev.” Blaise warns breathily, moaning quietly as Neville’s hips keep moving and consequently touching Blaise’s cock with his leg. “I just- _oh_ -I wanna make sure you’re really sure about this.”

“I’m sure.” Neville assures, not missing even a beat. “I’m sure, I’m sure _oh god_ I’m sure. How can I tell you that I’m more sure? I’ve been hard since I saw you climb out of that window.”

_ _Neville doesn’t think he’ll ever get a good, full lung’s full of breath back; not with Blaise so close to him._ _

_ _“I’m charmed.” Blaise purrs in a deep voice and honestly, fuck this boy for being able to smirk like that at a time like this. “I really am, but this is important. Are you… Have you done this before?”_ _

_ _Neville sits there, understanding the implication of what he’s asking; fully prepared for it to be all over. He mentally curses himself as he flicks his eyes down to Blaise’s collarbone and shakes his head no._ _

_ _It’s true. Technically. There was a boy when he was away and wandering through his hometown streets with a question on his mouth that he couldn’t form. It was his mate from when he was younger. Neville didn’t make it clear what he was there for because the boy was giving him heated glances and he…_ _

_ _They fooled around a couple of times, both times never getting all the way like he had wanted. And even though Neville is very, near painfully aware of his own sexuality from his right hand and his perhaps overactive imagination, that doesn’t mean he fully knows what he’s doing here. He can get the gist, can think about what he’d want to have done to him and vice versa, but he’s not worried about himself putting a stop to it. If this stops, it’ll be Blaise’s doing. Blaise will probably find no worth in this and then call it off._ _

But damnit, he _can’t_ have that, not when Blaise is right there and his skin is so soft under his shirt and his lips are fire under his and _no_-

“I want you so badly though.” Neville breathes against Blaise’s neck, unsure of when he leaned in to get here but liking the way he fits like a puzzle piece in this little spot. “I swear. I begged Ron to let me use his car so I could be here with you _please_-”

_ _Blaise’s chest rumbles with chuckles and Neville wraps his arms around him to pull their chests closer together and feel that as much as he can._ _

_ _“I know. It’s hot. But-” Blaise’s voice cuts off, and it’s not from anything Neville is doing, he’s sure, because he’s just breathing in Blaise’s astounding cologne like he has been doing for the past minute. Neville takes the quiet time to give the neck little kisses. He gets a little nervous the longer the pause goes on._ _

_ _Blaise takes ginger hold of Neville’s head just then, pulling him away gently. It leaves a whimper on Neville’s lips._ _

_ _“Do you want your first time to be in a car?” Blaise is serious. It sends Neville’s head spinning like a damn record._ _

He looks into the boys eyes and knows that all those things those people say about him aren’t true. He _knows_. Right now… he’s sure right now that he knows it.

_ _“I want my first time to be with you. I don’t fucking care where we are I- I want it so badly.” Neville can’t keep his hands still, rubbing over the lean and taut muscles of Blaise’s back as he speaks._ _

_ _Blaise pounces._ _

He gets his hands on the bottom of Neville’s shirt and is ripping it off quickly, immediately getting his lips onto Neville’s collarbone and working his way down as he makes quick work of the button of Neville’s jeans. Neville’s head is spinning faster now, breath coming in short pants as he whines at the wet touch of Blaise’s tongue around his nipple. He stops Blaise from fully taking his jeans off by taking Blaise’s shirt off too because _damn_ does he need to see that chest and _wow_ does he feel honored that he gets to. It’s heavenly, all expansive and dark and soft and Neville wouldn’t be surprised if the boy bathed in moisturizer every morning.

_ _They’re kissing again, hot and heavy and heady and needing, as Blaise works to get Neville’s stupidly tight jeans off of him. It’s such a nice release, finally freeing his cock from where it was trapped in that denim prison, but fuck if he doesn’t suddenly feel incredibly self conscious. That thought starts to fade away as Blaise gets a hand on him._ _

“_Damn_.” Blaise breathes as he breaks away from their kiss and looks down at Neville’s cock. “You’re gorgeous. Fuck, it’s not fair how gorgeous you are.”

_ _“You’re one to talk.” Neville says on a breathy laugh, reaching for Blaise’s jeans before he pauses, remembering something crucial._ _

_ _“What is it?” Blaise asks, leaning into Neville’s neck to kiss and bite as he continues to stroke him._ _

“Uhm-_ah_... ugh I just need… I _need_-”

_ _“You need, you need.” Blaise mocks amicably. “I’ll give, love.”_ _

Neville groans a bit, tilting his head back before he shakes his head. He pushes Blaise’s hands away lightly but with _great_ strength as well because getting those large hands off of him is like denying himself everything.

_ _“What is it?” Blaise repeats._ _

_ _Neville is already going through his pockets quickly. He checks them twice, before looking around the car._ _

_ _Blaise scoffs and waves his hands in front of Neville’s face._ _

_ _“I’m right here.” Blaise doesn’t sound quite as amused anymore, voice laced with irritation. Neville looks over and feels his heart rate spike. He’s going to have a heart attack at this point._ _

Blaise has shed his jeans off, sitting naked in the backseat and panting so prettily. The light from the streetlamp they’re parked under is shining off of his skin beautifully, illuminating him in such a subtle way and it’s driving Neville absolute _mad_. He can’t let his mind wander too far though.

_ _“Have you got a condom?” Neville asks, completely breathless._ _

_ _Blaise looks at him incredulously, scoffing after Neville’s gaze doesn’t let up._ _

_ _“Tell me, Neville, which one of us are you thinking is going to get pregnant?”_ _

_ _Neville furrows his brows, this time the one that’s slightly irritated. He shakes his head. “You know why I’m asking, Blaise.”_ _

“It’s _fine_. We don’t need one.”

_ _“Blaise-” Neville warns._ _

_ _“Are you going to let a lack of a condom keep me from shagging you?”_ _

_ _Neville’s mouth goes dry. He feels like Blaise’s mood has changed; this isn’t the same boy that was whispering compliments into his ear like he was the sun and the moon and the stars all at once._ _

_ _But he eyes the boy up and down, watching transfixed as Blaise’s hand is working at his large dick, stroking slowly. His blood is hot. Courage is flowing through it like he’s drunk off of Blaise. He feels uninhibited and wants to unravel at the hands of this boy he’s fantasized about forever. He can’t imagine giving this up. For once, his anxiety makes way for pure desire._ _

_ _Neville shakes his head, pouncing onto Blaise with a fierce hunger, revelling in Blaise’s pleasured hiss._ _

_ _~~~*~~~_ _

_ _The following morning Neville couldn’t have been any more mortified than he had been. He absolutely dreaded driving the car into the garage. For once, he had truly hoped that Ron’s pity would extend far enough to cover this little situation too._ _

_ _When Charlie called “There’s the casanova!” Neville’s face flared up with red._ _

_ _When they noticed the dent, Neville covered his face with his hands. There was a low whistle followed by a loud sigh and a bit of labored breathing._ _

_ _Luck favored Neville. Ron’s eyes were tight, but they softened the longer he looked at Neville. Neville apologized profusely and promised anything Ron wanted. Nothing made him feel worse than seeing that dent in this car that isn’t even his._ _

_ _“I swear, I didn’t even feel anyone hit it, I don’t know what could have happened.”_ _

_ _“Car was rocking that hard, huh?” Seamus had asked, a glint in his eye that Dean had knocked right out by smacking his boyfriend on the shoulder._ _

_ _Ron gave a sigh, but let Neville off the hook rather quickly._ _

_ _“It’s alright, Nev.” The pat Ron had given on Neville’s shoulder was far more reassuring than he thought it would be._ _

_ _So now here the boys are, standing in the garage and analyzing the damage._ _

_ _Charlie shrugs his mighty shoulders. “It’s not bad at all.”_ _

_ _Seamus snorts. “Course not, on this piece of tin? There could be a crater in it and it wouldn’t be that bad. I say the dent makes this wreck better.”_ _

Harry grunts in irritation at that. “And what have you got, huh? You call this a piece of tin but what are _you_ driving around?”

_ _Seamus’ face lights on fire with his blush. “I drive.”_ _

_ _“Yeah, your damn mouth.” Harry spits back, ruffling the boys hair good naturedly. Dean chuckles a bit but pulls his boyfriend close to him._ _

“What do _you_ suggest we do, Harry?” Dean asks, petting his burning boyfriend’s shoulder gently.

_ _“I say we need some overhead lifters and four-barrelled quads.” Harry says seriously, hand to his chin as he checks out under the hood._ _

_ _He looks to Ron for confirmation, but the boy’s face is blank. He blinks a second._ _

_ _“Uh huh, keep talking.” Ron says, and Neville knows the boy is utterly lost. Ron has never been the best with the mechanics of cars._ _

_ _“With a fuel injection cut off and chrome plated rods.” Charlie pipes up, bending at the waist to get a good look at the machinery, as if he hasn’t spent the past couple of weeks doting on this machine._ _

“And with a four speed on the floor?” Harry’s excitement is evident in his voice. “The guys are gonna be _begging_ for it!”

_ _Neville chokes at the statement, eyeing Ron bashfully who’s now glaring at Harry._ _

_ _“Or the girls.” Harry amends, laughing a bit as he does so. Ron pops the collar of his jacket in response._ _

_ _Charlie guffaws, walking around the side of the car and eyeing it like a conquest. Neville is as fascinated by the way Charlie treats cars as he assumes everyone is. He’s always on high alert, stalking around them like they’re his prey but also like they could pounce at any moment; treats them like they’re a dangerous animal that he has to wrangle. Neville supposes the analogy isn’t terribly inaccurate. There’s an immense power hidden within automobiles, and Charlie knows how to harness it perfectly and bring it out to its full potential. It’s rather intoxicating to watch the man circle a car._ _

_ _He pulls out a cigarette, placing it between his lips and slipping his lighter out of his pocket. Neville watches in rapture as he flicks it on, the flame bursting up far higher than any lighter Neville has ever seen. It’s large and bright and powerful, and Charlie looks like a dragon when he lights his cigarette with it, and even more so when he takes a drag and breathes out the smoke._ _

_ _Neville then tunes back into what Harry is saying._ _

_ _“Purple French tail-lights, thirty inch fins, palomino dashboard…”_ _

“Woah woah woah…” Charlie cuts in, a look of disgust on his face, cigarette hanging from his fingers. “We want to make it look _cool_ not _tacky_.”

_ _Dean and Neville chuckle while Harry’s face twists into a childish pout. His arm is around Ron’s shoulders, the two of them extremely close as Harry lays out all of the possibilities for the car. Ron’s eyes are wide with wonder, probably still thinking about the idea of a bright and shiny car._ _

_ _“Didn’t your mum tell you to lay off of those?” Harry spits out, arm still around a fascinated Ron._ _

_ _Charlie snorts gracelessly, looking around the garage in mock fear._ _

_ _“Oh dear yes, I, a 25 year old man, have forgotten to check with my mum that I can smoke in my own garage.”_ _

_ _Harry doesn’t let up, but Neville notices a blush through the boy’s tan complexion._ _

_ _Neville looks back to Charlie, who is sighing and letting his cigarette fall to the ground so he can stamp it out with his heavy boot. The broad man grumbles under his breath about bratty boys with pretty eyes._ _

_ _“It’ll be so fast, it’ll leave Cormac in last month!” Ron’s eyes sparkle, clearly still oblivious to the conversation that just took place. Neville smiles at the sight of that bright and freckled face. He’s happy no one is as concerned over the dent as he is. “It’ll be… it’ll be Greased Lightning!”_ _

_ _Charlie makes a confused choking sound. Neville can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his throat, but he does his best to keep it to a quiet chuckle._ _

_ _The rest of the boys are nodding their heads, smiling proudly at the name._ _

“Oi!” Charlie asks in confusion. “It’s meant to be _cool_, is it not?”

_ _The boys are too busy celebrating though, talking about the sexual conquests they’re going to have in the car, all of the things people will be lining up to do when the car is finished and painted and shiny._ _

_ _Neville feels himself blush viciously as he thinks about what he and Blaise got up to last night in the very car they’re talking about. All of the things that they did, that Neville had always fantasized about, all of the ways he wanted to be able to touch the god-like boy. God those hands-_ _

_ _“Hello Neville.” The boy in question jumps as a strong and light brown hand touches his shoulder. He looks over and sees it’s just Hermione, eyes focused before she looks to him with kindness in her intense eyes. “How are you?”_ _

_ _Neville gulps. “Fine.” He croaks. She gives him nod, never the one to pick up on the intricacies of emotion. Neville’s thankful for it. He doesn’t want to go into an all out interrogation while he’s trying to will down an erection._ _

_ _“Ron!” She calls, holding up a paper bag. “Ron, your mother made a lunch for you and told me to deliver it.”_ _

_ _“‘Mione!” He exclaims excitedly. It makes Neville smile to see how bright Ron gets when he sees the girl. “Come get a good look at Greased Lightning.”_ _

_ _He’s so proud, but Hermione’s brow only furrows._ _

_ _“What?”_ _

_ _“The name of my new car!” Ron beams even brighter, running a pale hand over the side as he admires it._ _

_ _“But that’s not…even feasible.” Hermione begins, mind obviously running with confusion. “You can’t… lightning isn’t a physical entity that can be greased, why would you-”_ _

_ _Neville stops Hermione as he clears his throat quietly. She turns to look up at him, curiosity in her eyes. He stops her with a look, shaking his head and chuckling a bit in his chest._ _

_ _She sighs, turning back to Ron._ _

“It’s a… it’s a good name, Ron. A _cool_ name.”

_ _Neville chuckles louder as he watches Ron’s face beam with pride. Hermione shakes her head, all business again._ _

_ _“Right, anyway, Charlie, your mum made you one too.”_ _

_ _Charlie’s sitting at a table now, fiddling with something Neville knows nothing about but he’s deep set in concentration. When he hears his name, he only comes out of his stupor for a second. He stands up, taking the bag and kissing Hermione on the cheek very lightly, like he would his mother._ _

_ _“Thanks ‘Mione.” He mumbles, a slight smile on his concentrated face as he wipes his hands off on a cloth and opens his bag to dig into a sandwich._ _

_ _There’s a noticeable blush on her dark complexion and a bright red sheet on Ron’s. The red-head grumbles a bit but it’s drowned out by Dean’s laughter._ _

_ _“Gonna be sick, mate?” Neville hears Dean ask. “You’re looking awfully green…”_ _

_ _“Probably with envy!” Seamus chimes in. Ron’s simmering, mouth twisting around like he’s tasted a sour candy._ _

_ _“Shove off, you lot!” He grinds out, loud enough for the garage to hear. “What’ve I got to be jealous of?”_ _

_ _The boys snicker, Neville included. He crosses his arms and begins to talk to Hermione about anything he can think of, trying to keep her distracted when he notices her blush consuming her._ _

_ _“Sorry I’ve been kind of neglecting my duties on student council.” He starts, his arms still crossed but feeling rather bashful._ _

_ _“There’s no need to apologize, I’ve held them up just fine!” She assures Neville and he actually does feel assured._ _

_ _Neville’s ears perk up as the boys begin to talk fervently. His eyes shift to them over Hermione’s shoulder._ _

“What, you gonna go stag to the dance?” Seamus asks incredulously and _loudly_.

_ _“I can’t find a single girl to ask.” Ron leans back against a greasy table. “I dunno what to do.”_ _

“Not a _single_ girl?” Dean asks, and sends a glance toward Neville and Hermione. Neville feels like he shouldn’t have stopped the conversation he was having with her, worried now about what Ron is going to say. He turns back to his friend, and she’s blushing up a storm, eyes downcast and hardset.

_ _“Uhm-” Neville starts in a vain attempt to distract her, but it doesn’t work._ _

_ _“You mean Mione?” Ron asks loudly, before changing a quieter tone. “I guess, but… I couldn’t.” He continues, eyeing Hermione and sputtering a bit. Neville knows this won’t be good._ _

_ _Ron’s eyes sparkle when he looks at her -even when she’s turned away with her eyes fixed on the ground- and Neville knows this can only lead to trouble. He’s seen this same look in Ron before when the boys talk about Hermione. He saw it in Harry their second year when he had that crush on Cho Chang. Every time, the boy in question is shot down by his friends. Every time, they give worried looks, as if the idea of their cool slipping is the worst thing that could happen. As if they’re saving their friend from utter… uncoolness._ _

_ _Neville screws his eyes shut._ _

“I _guess_ Hermione is a girl…” Ron’s voice shakes a bit and Neville knows the boy is upset over it. “It’d be sad for her to go alone, huh?”

_ _Neville opens one eye to see Hermione still standing next to him, absolutely fuming. She’s facing Neville, her back to Ron. Neville slides his eyes over to the boys, Seamus chuckling a bit, Dean’s face twisting up, and Harry standing with his eyes wide in fear._ _

_ _Ron looks in Hermione’s direction. She’s facing Neville, but her gaze is beyond him, as if she’s trying to melt something past him. Neville wants to take her for a walk, away from this. Away from the same kind of hurt that Draco went through._ _

_ _“Hermione?” Ron calls out to her this time._ _

_ _She turns on a dime, snapping sharply and primly at Ron._ _

“Before you say a _word_, and this may come as a shock to you, but someone else has already taken notice to the fact that I am a girl and they’ve already _asked me_.” She takes a large huff, her hair bouncing like it’s angry too. “And I told them yes!”

_ _Neville watches her sadly as she turns and makes to leave the garage. On her way out, she makes a last minute turn to Charlie. He’s busy working on what looks like his second sandwich, but very clearly having watched the whole debacle unfold. Hermione walks to him purposefully and leans down to give him a kiss on the cheek._ _

_ _He looks up at her and Neville thinks there’s sadness in his eyes. Charlie probably hates this dumb game as much as he does. “Bye love.” He says quietly and kindly._ _

_ _And with that, Hermione gathers herself and leaves quickly._ _

_ _“What the fuck!” Ron calls from the corner of the garage, charging towards his brother. “What’d you do that for, Charlie?”_ _

_ _Charlie finishes off his sandwich, watching his younger brother walk towards him with incredible disinterest. Ron merely stands over Charlie, using his height as an advantage but making no move to be physical. Charlie looks up at the boy, still chewing what appears to be a massive bite before he swallows it down and stands up._ _

Charlie eyes the other boys, to which Harry gives a confused shrug and Dean merely responds: “He’s _your_ brother.”

_ _When Ron tries to get in his brother’s space, Charlie bends a large arm towards him and pushes the boy’s chest away with his forearm. He’s not as tall, but he’s a damn load more broad, and definitely has more muscle than Ron has. All it takes is an arm to keep Ron at bay, but that doesn’t stop the taller brother from breathing heavily and getting flustered._ _

_ _“Why’d you do that?” Ron leans his whole weight onto Charlie, causing the man to take a step back to take the weight._ _

_ _“What’s your problem you little menace? What are you getting so mad at me for?”_ _

_ _“Why’d you do that?” Ron asks again, and Neville moves out of the way of the two as they walk closer to him. He side steps quickly, rushing over to the other boys._ _

“Can you cut it out? What do you think _I’m_ the one asking her to your dumb little school dance?” Charlie looks frustrated, and unafraid to pin his brother down to get him off his back.

_ _Ron’s body is shaking, he lifts up a hand but Charlie swats it down just as quickly._ _

_ _“Just because you’re too self-conscious to think about asking Hermione out?”_ _

_ _“I am not!” Ron is still shaking, still not making any real moves to hit his brother, but then he takes a deep breath and raises his hands up to shove his brother square in the chest. He does, and Charlie barely moves._ _

_ _“You always were the best at arguing, huh?” Charlie teases mercilessly, and Ron isn’t having it, but Charlie blocks any attempt at taking him down. “Now, do you want me to help you with your car or not? Even if you were good at flirting, why would Mione want to get into this thing anyway? Looks like it could give you a disease with one touch.”_ _

_ _Ron fumes, backing away angrily, face red and sweaty. He’s grumpy and angry and: “Oh yeah? Well it probably has diseases now anyway after Blai-”_ _

_ _He cuts short and Neville’s stomach drops._ _

“Wha-?” Neville is asking before his head stops spinning. _What does he-?_

_ _“Nothing.” Ron says flatly. “Let’s fix up the car.”_ _

_ _Neville doesn’t know what to do. He looks to Harry, lost and trying to figure out what’s happening. Harry looks at him dumbfounded and Dean’s looking at him sadly. Seamus has joined Charlie and Ron, talking about what they need to do to start fixing the car._ _

_ _Dean begins to walk towards Neville, but Neville’s immediate reaction is to back away._ _

_ _“I h-have to get home.” Neville stutters, heart feeling like a weight. “Gran… I should get to Gran.”_ _

_ _He turns and all but flees from the garage._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Intermission! grab your sodas and candies and popcorn and I PROMISE Act 2 will be out eventually!!!!
> 
> i haven't lost interest, I just lose energy and time bc WOW this thing is long and convoluted. I was foolishly thinking: the plot of Grease is so simple!! but that's before you add a gaggle of characters and another love plot and jioa;wjfp;foweiawa AUGH
> 
> anywaY now that we're done here for now, PLEASE go check out [parseltonquinq's fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527222) bc it's better and honestly far more organized than mine so ♥♥♥ send much love to such a talented doll if you haven't already
> 
> if you have any questions about any decisions I made (bc i made a LOT of at least semi-careful decisions), feel free to come yell at me @pointeful on tumblr. yell at me excitedly, happily, angrily, i'm there! i also read and respond to comments religiously so you can catch me basically anywhere you can reach me
> 
> till next time, thanks soso much for reading and i adore your soul♥


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